


A world like ours

by LeMera (Agha)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, M/M, Misunderstandings, Oral Sex, alternative reality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 08:56:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 26,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29556669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agha/pseuds/LeMera
Summary: Bucky didn't know how they ended up in this medieval, fake reality. He didn't know why he remembered the real world but Sam didn't. But he knew one thing: he had to keep Sam safe. Even if Sam had no idea who he was.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson
Comments: 11
Kudos: 36





	1. Chapter 1

At first glance, everything was different.

There was no technology, which sucked since he just got used to technology. There were no cars, no trains, no proper roads, but everything was clean and shiny and pretty. Really, from his understanding, he'd ended up in a version of 15th century England that was a lot nicer than the real 15th century England. He wondered, faintly, if he'd ended up in some film, but it didn't actually matter in the end. He was stuck here with no allies and no way out. He was happy that he'd seen enough weird shit in the past for this not to be too shocking. His plan was simple: fit in until he found someone else who seemed out of place or Sam saved him. Because Sam always saved him.

It was actually pretty annoying. Sam had started calling him 'damsel' because of how often he got into trouble and Sam had to drag him out of it, which was unfair because out of the two, Sam was far more risk-taking.

Stuck in this world, he had to contend himself with traveling from town to town, taking up some physical work here and there to get food and board and opportunity to figure out what was up, and then moving on. He'd gotten into the rhythm of it when he saw it. The drawing.

Crown prince Sam's birthday was coming up and they were holding a feast. Sam was stuck there too.

Bucky sighed when he saw it. Who was going to save them now? But a part of him was overwhelmingly relieved. At least he'd have someone else there who knew that this was all bonkers. If he could find him, he wouldn't be alone anymore. All he had to do was travel to the capitol, get through the crowd at the feast, get past all the guards and maybe some other royals, and then get Sam out. Easy peasy.

Easy, until he stood there, in front of Sam, who had no idea who he was.

"Can I help you?" Sam asked, alone in the hallway because Bucky had his guards distracted, still wearing his fancy, silk clothes from the feast. His eyes were empty, there wasn't a single spark of recognition, not even some hidden 'we have to pretend we don't know each other' twitch in his face. He looked faintly curious, but not overly so, like Bucky wasn't important enough for him to pay any real attention to.

"I... I, eh, work here," Bucky lied, completely thrown. This was not what he'd been expecting at all.

Sam nodded. "All right." Then he walked past Bucky, going to his room. Bucky stood frozen exactly where he was, unsure what to do now. "Actually, wait," Sam said, standing at the door to his room.

Bucky swirled around, his heart beating in his chest, hope blossoming.

"Do you know where my guards went? I can't see them anywhere."

His heart crashed with disappointment. "There was some commotion by the outer gates. They'll probably be back in a moment."

Sam nodded, closing the door behind him, leaving Bucky alone in his despair.

He felt like he was drowning. He had no idea what to do now. He had to admit that his plan of traveling around finding clues had been proven a complete failure at this point and all of his hopes had been pinned on Sam either rescuing him from the outside, or them figuring out how to fix this from the inside. Now, he was alone. Sam wouldn't save him, he'd found nothing to point him to what might've happened and no one that gave him a clue that he's not the only one recognising how messed up this whole thing was, and now he was starting to question if he was the one who was wrong. Maybe there wasn't another world. Maybe this was reality. Maybe...

He shook his head, forcing the thoughts away. No. He hadn't fought a century of HYDRA brain-washing only to start doubting his mind now. He knew who he was. He knew where he was from. He knew this was all fake.

Maybe that was the problem. Bucky knew how to center himself, how to break programming and brain-washing, but no one else here did. Sam had never experienced something like that. Sam needed help, someone by his side, to help him through this. Once his memories of his real life started to return, and they would return Bucky was certain of it, Sam would need someone telling him that they were real, that he shouldn't ignore them, that he wasn't losing his mind. Bucky had to be there for him.

So he got a job at the castle. He tried to get a job as his personal guard, but to get one of those positions you needed a famous family name and you had to get knighted, which really, what an elitist bullshit system that was rigged against the poor. So he got stuck being a servant instead.

When they got out of this, Sam owed him big time.

Bucky worked himself up the chain (with a lot of cheating and back-stabbing, he wasn't going to lie), and he learnt a lot in the process.

At first glance, everything was different.

But at a second, there were things that he recognised. There had been a great threat to the country, a genocidal maniac who wanted to burn it all to the ground, who had been defeated by a group of brave knights. Including a guy named Jeremiah whose statue looked a whole lot like Stark, and another knight called Eric who was rumoured to have been Sam's great love, whose shield he still kept in his room. At the same time, none of the other surviving Avengers were present - there was no version Wanda, no Vision, no Clint, at least not as far as he could tell. Even Stark and Steve were not remembered by their real names, but as some twisted versions of themselves.

Finally, after a lot of hard work and cheating, he made it to the position of working in Sam's chambers.

Again, Sam owed him.

Even as a manservant, he was hardly ever noticed by Sam, who rarely spent any time in his room, instead going around the castle listening to people's grievances and stressing over the country's economy and armies threatening from the sea and just general, head-inducing paperwork. Since Sam didn't know this was all fake, he treated every problem he faced like it was life-or-death, and Bucky had to admit that he kind of felt bad for him. The safety and wellbeing of a country is a heavy burden to bear. Bucky wanted to hate him for being such a spoiled brat he hardly noticed his personal servant, but even there, he had a good reason: Sam did most of his things alone. He dressed and undressed himself, fixed his own bath, folded his own clothes, generally cleaned up after himself. The people who did do actual hard work for him - the cooks and the maid - he knew the name of and thanked profusely. It was just Bucky he didn't need.

Bucky was somewhat relieved. He didn't know what he'd do if he was stuck always undressing Sam and watching him take baths. Instead he just folded his clothes and fixed his bed and ordered whatever he wanted to get ordered to his room.

"You don't speak much," Sam commented one day, squinting at some papers in the weak candlelight while jumping out of his shoes.

"I haven't been asked to speak," Bucky said respectfully, like he'd been taught, even though it made him feel like a stupid puppet.

Sam snorted, putting the papers down and stretching his arms above his head. "Sorry, usually I pay more attention to what's going on, but I'm still getting used to you replacing Tommy."

"I understand," Bucky said, hating that he had to forgive Sam for his dismissive behaviour already. He wouldn't have minded Sam being more of an asshole so he could really rub it in his face after this was all over.

"You're new, aren't you?" Sam said. "You haven't worked in the castle for long."

"I haven't. The day we met was my first day."

"And now you're here."

"I work hard." Bucky puffed up his chest.

"I asked for you, actually," Sam said. "Partly because I heard you're good, but also because there's something about you that I recognise." Sam stepped closer, his eyes tracing Bucky up and down.

This was it. This was when Sam finally realised what was going on. Bucky almost held his breath in anticipation.

"You were Eric's friend, weren't you?"

Bucky's shoulders sagged. "What?"

"Eric." Sam turned his head, his eyes landing on the painted shield hanging on his wall.

The shield was squared, blue scattered with white stars, with a large crack going down the middle of it.

Eric was Steve. Eric had been Prince Sam's great love. Steve had been real Sam's great love (even if he never admitted it).

Of course. Of fucking course.

"Yes," Bucky said. "I fought in the war with him."

Sam nodded, his face grim. "I didn't want to ask when I wasn't sure, but the more I look at you, the more I remember." He gave him a considering look. "Your hair was longer."

"It was."

"And he cared about you a great deal."

Bucky swallowed harshly. "He did."

"Why didn't you say anything when you first arrived? I would've given you a good position straight away, not have you start by scrubbing the floors."

Of course he would, because Sam loved Steve and would do anything for Steve's friend, even if they spent more time fighting than talking.

"It didn't seem right," Bucky settled on in the end. "I wanted to do things the proper way."

"You protected our country, you deserve respect, you deserve honor," Sam insisted.

"Is there a greater honor than serving the Crown Prince?" Bucky countered, afraid that Sam would send him away.

"Yes," Sam said, but then he sighed. "But if this is what you want, I am honoured to have you here."

Bucky tried to smile as genuinely as possible, but he wasn't sure how well it looked. Sam smiled back weakly, turning away, reaching for his remaining boot.

"What happened to him?" Bucky had to ask. "Eric, I mean. I heard that he died, but I wasn't with him then so I don't..."

Sam's back went stiff. He dropped the boot with a _thud_ , starting to unbutton his doublet without really saying anything.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked."

"No, I get it, he was your friend as well." He dragged the doublet off, throwing it on his bed. Next he started on his cuffs.

Ok, so that thing Bucky had feared happening in front of him was happening in front of him.

"We can talk about it one day," Sam decided. "Just not... Not..."

"It's fine," Bucky said hurriedly. "Any time you want is fine." He grappled for the door handle. "I won't disturb you anymore, we'll meet in the morning."

Sam glanced at him, his shirt already unbuttoned, showing off a long line of skin. "Goodnight."

"Night!"

Bucky closed the door behind him, his palms sweating.

Sam had been in love with Steve. They'd been together, or at least, they'd slept together. Then Steve had gone back in time to be with Peggy, which really, no one blamed him for, but it had left Sam heartbroken. Because Steve had been Sam's great love.

The fact that Bucky had wanted him since the moment he realized that Sam wasn't the enemy, was beside the point.

#

Sam rushed in and slammed the door shut, while Bucky was folding up his clean clothes. Bucky paused, giving him a worried look, his attack-senses already tingling.

"What happened?" he said tensely.

"Nothing, shit." Sam rubbed his eyes. "Sorry. Just got into it with my father."

Since Sam had seemingly decided that they were friends now that he knew Bucky had been "Eric's" friend, he'd already gotten to hear a lot about the royal family drama. It was inane, most of the time. Sam's father was sick so Sam did most of the work of a king and his family appreciated him for it, but they also nagged him a lot. About what he did, where he went, who he spoke to, who he was going to marry. Normal overbearing family stuff, really, except Bucky supposed that when you're a prince who you marry might be a bigger deal than in most families.

Sam stood there with his hands on his hips, taking a deep breath. "It's not that I don't want to be with someone," Sam said. "It's just complicated."

"Sure," Bucky said, resuming his work.

"It's not a good time for me to get married."

"Makes sense."

"But damn it, I do want to fuck so badly."

Bucky froze again, his mouth going dry. Sam groaned, flopping down on the bed.

"I'm sure you can... I mean, there must be plenty..."

"It wouldn't be right," Sam said. "Women aren't allowed the same liberties as men. I know there are women that want it, but the world doesn't want it for them. They'd be branded as whores, and what would I do if she got pregnant?"

"There are..." Bucky trailed off. He'd stupidly assumed that this place was cool with homosexuality since Sam had so famously been in love with Steve, but now that he heard about how they treated women, he wasn't as sure that they really were that modern. "I mean, you and Eric..."

"What about us?" Sam said, his eyes trained on Bucky.

Bucky opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. "I know Eric sometimes enjoyed..." Then, fuck it, this was a fake world anyway. "Eric sometimes enjoyed the company of men as well as women."

"You knew?" Sam sounded surprised. "I didn't think he told anyone but me and, well, the men he was with."

"Were you not one of the men he was with?" Bucky asked carefully.

Sam's eyes felt like fire. "Were you?"

Bucky tilted his head. He didn't know what to say to that. No, he and Steve never had sex. They were brothers, not boyfriends. At least that was the case where he was from, he didn't know how "Eric" and James did things here.

"You didn't answer my question."

"You didn't answer mine," Sam countered.

They were at a stalemate. Bucky would leave, but he was pinned by the intensity of Sam's gaze.

Sam pushed up into a sitting position, his eyes tracing over Bucky's face, down his jaw, his neck, his chest.

Sam wanted him. Right here, right now, Sam wanted to fuck him. There was no denying it, he wasn't even trying to hide it. It was possible that Sam had been attracted to him all along, but shown no signs of it until now that he had a hint that Bucky might be into men as well. That Bucky might be into _him_.

When Bucky didn't say anything or do anything, something close to disappointment crossed Sam's face. He turned away, finally freeing Bucky from his gaze but also making him feel cold and bereft.

"I should probably go back to my father and apologise for storming out," Sam said, voice low, already standing up.

Bucky moved without meaning to, getting in his way. Sam's eyebrows arched up in surprise, but he didn't say anything, stopping right in front of Bucky, so close their noses almost touched.

Bucky's chest felt tight, his breathing shallow, his palms tingling. He wanted to touch Sam so badly, his skin was burning with it. He lifted his hand carefully, not really aware he was even doing it, and touching his temple, then his cheek. Sam felt like he was on fire as well.

Sam got closer, closer, until their noses were touching, until Bucky could practically count every eyelash, until their lips grazed.

The sharp desire that flashed through his made him pull back as if burnt.

This wasn't right. Sam didn't know who Bucky was, he didn't even know who he was, it wouldn't be right to do anything with him here, now. It would be taking advantage of a bad situation.

"Sorry," Sam murmured, even though he hadn't done anything wrong. "I didn't mean to..."

"I should go," Bucky said, his voice weak. He didn't wait for a reply, he just fled.

He spent the rest of the day down in the kitchen, doing nothing, until one of the cooks told him to get the hell out (after affectionately feeding him some meat because he looked hungry). He did not plan to return to Sam's room for at least a couple of days, his job be damned, but then one of the guards grabbed him by the arm and let him know that the Prince wanted to see him and that there would be no arguments.

Sam, thankfully, did not ask to meet in his bedroom, but the guard instead took Bucky to his solar. The door was closed behind him, then locked, leaving him and Sam alone in a room covered by papers. Seriously, how did Sam even keep track of things in here?

"James, I wished to apologise," Sam said with a rush. He looked so stupidly handsome, dressed in in princely doublet and crisp shirt, his fingers smudged with ink.

"You didn't do anything wrong," Bucky responded.

"Yes, I did. I'm your prince, you're a servant, it wasn't right of me to try and... I just mean, I understand why you got scared. As the one in power, I can demand certain things and it wouldn't be right of me..."

Bucky couldn't hear what else he was saying. All he could hear was his heart beating at an alarming pace as all of the blood in his body rushed to where it should not go.

 _Demand_.

Oh, yes. He can demand.

"Demand it," Bucky said, his voice rough, interrupting Sam's apologetic spiel. "Order me."

Sam froze. "What?"

Bucky stalked up to him, rounding the desk so they could stand face-to-face, almost as close as they'd just been in Sam's room.

"I can't do it," Bucky said. "I can't touch you, not unless you order me to. Not unless it's completely your choice."

It was a weak loophole and he knew it. Having it be Sam's choice, his demand even, didn't remove all of the things that made this not okay. But Bucky was tired. He'd spent months traveling, working, re-shoeing horses and farming harsh land. He'd scrubbed floors and toilets, had folded and mended shirts and stood around polite and proper like some stupid doll, and he was tired. Tired of being the only one in this world who knew this wasn't real, tired of being alone, tired of wanting Sam so badly he felt it might burn him up from the inside and not being able to act on it.

This version of Sam wanted him, and did he not deserve to be wanted? Did he not deserve to get to do something fun, something enjoyable, for the first time since who knows how long? Because if this went on as it was, if he kept having to live here and work with no hopes for the future, no hopes of getting out, nothing to entertain him or give him joy, he was going to collapse and give up. It was too much. He needed _something_.

"I won't make you do something that you don't want to do," Sam said, determined, even as his eyes flitted to Bucky's lips.

"I want you to," Bucky insisted, moving as close as he possibly could without touching Sam. Maybe this wasn't right, but it was what he needed. "Order me," he asked. Begged. "Tell me what to do."

Sam's tongue darted out, licking his lips slowly. Bucky wanted nothing more than to kiss him.

"I order," he stopped, hesitated. Bucky raised his eyes, meeting Sam's, showing just how much he wanted this. Sam's eyes went dark. "I order you to show me," he said, breathless.

"Show you what?"

Sam's fingers slid into Bucky's hair, his nails scrapping over the back of his head, and Bucky shuddered.

"Show you what?" he repeated.

"Everything."

Bucky kissed him harshly, no longer capable of controlling himself. He buried his fingers in Sam's hips, pulling their bodies flush together, kissing Sam like he'd been waiting to kiss him for years. Sam let out breathy moans, his fingers tightening in Bucky's hair, his cock hard against Bucky's hip.

They parted momentarily to breathe, Bucky running his lips over Sam's cheek, his jaw, his neck, making Sam moan. He shoved him back until his back hit the desk, kissing down his chest, then he dropped to his knees.

"You don't have to," Sam protested.

"Sam," Bucky growled, making Sam's breath hitch. "You know what to say."

Sam's fingers curled into his hair again, his voice steadier when he commanded, "Do it."

Bucky fumbled with the drawstrings on his breeches, cursing the stupid garment, before getting it open and lowering them to the ground. He kissed Sam's stomach, his hips, his thighs, feeling him tremble beneath his lips. He wanted to touch Sam everywhere, kiss him everywhere, feel every part of him. He wanted this to last.

"James," Sam warned.

He slid his hand over Sam's hard cock, his grip loose, making Sam groan, both in pleasure and impatience.

"James, please."

His grip got tighter, stroking him steadily. He glanced up at Sam, whose eyes were closed, his head thrown back, leaning back against the desk on his forearms. He kissed the tip of his dick and Sam's entire body spasmed. Licking a long stripe from the bottom to the top, he took the tip between his lips, closing his eyes as he sucked him down slowly. Sam's fingers in his hair went even tighter, holding his head stil as his hips stuttered forward, forcing his cock deeper into his mouth.

Bucky relaxed his jaw and throat as much as he could and pressed forward further and further, until Sam hit the back of his throat.

"Oh god," Sam blabbered once Bucky got a chance to let up and pull back up again. "Your mouth. It's incredible."

Bucky sucked him down again, bobbing his head, his fingers digging into Sam's ass and encouraging him to move. To push him down again. To use him.

Sam seemed to get the hint, because he wound his hand in Bucky's hair and shoved his dick down his throat, over and over again, going deeper and deeper with each thrust. The room filled with the sound of him sliding in and out of Bucky's throat. Tears gathered in Bucky's eyes, saliva dripping down his chin, but he didn't protest or care. Relaxing his throat, he pushed at Sam's ass and got him to shove his dick all the way down, until Bucky's lips touched his pelvis, choking on it.

"Fuck!" Sam's hips stuttered. "I'm going... I'm going..."

Bucky grabbed Sam's hand and he immediately let up, allowing Bucky to pull back. He gulped in air, wiping the spit off his chin. Sam looked down at him with open admiration, his eyes blown up with lust.

"Go ahead," Bucky said, then he swallowed him down again.

Sam cursed and came the moment he hit the back of Bucky's throat. His legs seemed to fold beneath him after Bucky had swallowed it all down, and Sam sagged to the floor, slipping out from between Bucky's lips. His face was covered in sweat and he was panting loudly, looking spent. Bucky loved this look on him. He'd done that. He'd made Sam feel like this.

Sam looked at him with hooded eyes, his gaze going from his face down to his crotch, where he was bursting out of his breeches. Before either of them could move and do something about it, however, there was a sharp knock on the door.

"Don't come in!" Sam screeched, panicked, scrambling to his feet while trying to get his pants closed properly. Bucky pushed himself up as well, wiping his lips calmly. He doubted there was much he could do about his hair to make it look like Sam hadn't just been grabbing it while fucking into his throat, but he did his best to smooth it out. "I said no disturbances, I'm doing important work!"

Sam buttoned the few buttons on his shirt that Bucky had gotten up, then looked at Bucky, spreading his arms as if it to ask 'do I look presentable?'.

"Your highness," the guard outside called out. "His Majesty is here."

"You're fine," Bucky whispered. He was sweaty and still panting, his shirt and pants a bit ruffled, but other than that he looked fine.

"You look..." Sam waved at Bucky. "Just don't look him in the face when he enters."

Bucky hadn't planned to. Sam went to open the door, and the moment the king was inside Bucky had already slipped out, grateful for once that no one really cared what the servants were up to. He went to the servant quarters, blissfully empty since everyone was still working, and found a small basin to fill with cold water.

He was still hard despite the interruption, still overheated from the encounter, and he was sure that if he had a mirror to look in, he'd probably still look fucked. Splashing the cold water over his face, he shivered, trying to force away the memory of Sam trembling under his hands, the sound he made when he came down his throat.

What had he done? Even if Sam had asked for it, it didn't make it right. What would he say, once they got back to reality? Once he remembered who he was and that he didn't want Bucky, had never wanted Bucky, had only ever seen Bucky as either a maniac assassin or his lover's best friend.

The thought of the look on Sam's face when he realised, of having to explain to him why he did what he did, was what made his hardness finally go down. He buried his face in his wet hands, wondering if he could get away with just staying down here for the rest of time.

*

Obviously, he didn't get away with it. He was forced by his supervisor to get back to work, shoved out of his quarters with some colourful threats and curses, and he found no choice but to go up to Sam's room.

It was simple; he had to resign. Sam was safe here. He had his guards and servants and his family. He didn't need Bucky. Bucky, on the other hand, needed to go back to traveling. To find answers and figure out what got them here and how to get out, seeing as he was the only one who knew something was wrong.

Good plan. Resign, leave having a decent bed and food every day and a hot guy who wants to fuck him, and go figure out why this world was fucked up. Great. Wonderful.

The moment he stepped into Sam's room he was grabbed around the collar and slammed against the door. He was half a second away from breaking his attackers' neck, when Sam's lips crashed against his, dragging him into a soaring kiss.

"You have no idea how terrible that was," Sam said laughingly, kissing Bucky's neck, down his shoulder. "I had to sit there with my dad, talking about the economy of all things, trying not to look at the spot where you'd just been on your knees for me. I thought I was going to die."

When Bucky didn't say anything or kiss him back, he backed away, his hand cupping the back of Bucky's neck. He smiled at him. "You are so incredibly hot, you know that? That was so fucking good."

Bucky was at a loss. "I..."

"And you didn't even get to get off, did you?" Sam's hand snacked down his body, cupping him through his pants. Bucky had gone soft for a while, but now he was quickly getting hard again. "Don't worry. I'll take care of you now."

Bucky closed his eyes. _Quit. Tell him you're quitting. Tell him..._ "I can't," he tried feebly.

"Oh, I get it," Sam said, sounding amused. He kissed Bucky's cheek, then, in a whisper that made Bucky's toes curl, he commanded, "I order you to take off your clothes."


	2. Chapter 2

Was he proud of what he did next? No. Did he love every second of it? Yes.

When Sam whispered out his demand, Bucky didn't stand a chance. He really didn't. Sam might hate him forever but Bucky was only human, all right?

Sam sat down on the bed giving him an expectant, heated look. Bucky swallowed, his throat dry, and began undressing. He did it slowly, partly because he wanted to give Sam a chance to change his mind and back out if he wanted to, partly because Sam's pupils grew larger and larger for every button he opened and it was beautiful. He threw his shirt away, then untied his breeches, kicking them to the side. Sam took him in, his eyes searing as they moved from his lips to his chest down between his legs. Normally, he might feel exposed, standing naked like that while being watched so intensely, but right now he wanted nothing more than for Sam to look at him. To want him the same way he'd wanted Sam for all of this time.

Only, Sam did not want him the way Bucky did. Sam wanted to fuck him, not date him or fall in love with him. Bucky wasn't even truly his friend or co-pilot or partner in this reality. He was just a servant. But then again, Sam wasn't really Sam right now either. He wasn't the Falcon or the new Captain America, he wasn't a war veteran or someone who'd survived the Snap and fought Thanos. He was a prince. A prince who wanted to fuck Bucky.

"Come here," Sam said, having finished taking him in.

Bucky obediently stepped closer until he was within Sam's reach. Sam flattened his hands against Bucky's stomach and his muscles tensed under his touch. Sam looked at him with wonder, as if he wasn't sure that he was real, his hands coming down to touch his hips, then his thighs. Bucky was already hard, his cock desperate for touch, but he didn't protest as Sam explored his skin, remembering how badly he'd wanted to do the same back in Sam's solar.

Sam carefully pressed his lips against Bucky's hip. Bucky shuddered, his cock leaking between them. Sam's lips were _so close,_ all he had to do was open his mouth and Bucky would slide right in. But he supposed Princes got their dicks sucked in this reality, not the other way around.

Sam's hands went around his hips, grabbing his ass harshly, making Bucky gasp.

"All you have to do is demand it," Bucky said, his throat still rough from the fucking it'd received.

He almost whined when Sam's lips left his skin, his face tilting up to meet his eyes. "Demand what?"

Bucky couldn't help himself, he had to touch him. He pressed his thumb to the corner of Sam's mouth, his fingers curling around his neck. "To fuck me."

Sam's mouth fell open, his pupils so blown his eyes were basically black. "I command..." he breathed.

"Yes?" Bucky prompted.

"I command you to show me how to fuck you properly."

Bucky almost laughed. Was he supposed to believe that Sam had never fucked anyone? Had never fucked Steve - or 'Eric'? Although, he supposed Eric might have topped. Or maybe in this reality, Sam and Eric never got the chance before Eric went out to war and died.

"Come on now," Sam said, smiling teasingly. "Show me."

Bucky pressed two fingers against Sam's plump lips, pushing them open. "I'd need lubrication."

"I have something," Sam said eagerly, disappointingly not getting what Bucky was hinting on. "Get on the bed. I'll get it."

Bucky obediently crawled onto the bed, lying down on his back, while Sam went and got lube. Sam crawled on top of him, still looking at him with a type of wonder that made Bucky uncomfortable. He grabbed Sam by the neck and pulled him down for another kiss so he wouldn't have to keep meeting his eyes. Sam was still fully dressed, which was a shame, but before he got the time to ask that he get mored naked, Sam's fingers finally, _finally_ , wrapped around his leaking dick, making him let out a sob of relief and pleasure.

"Sam," he moaned against his lips, his back arching. Sam's grip tightened, his hand moving faster, making Bucky's nails tear into his shirt. "Yes, like that."

He'd had all of this sexual energy pent up since this morning and now it was building and building, so close to the edge, and it was humiliating how fast it all spilled over and he came all over Sam's hand and on his doublet with a shout. Panting, he relaxed back onto the sheets, his eyes screwed shut, unable to look Sam in the eyes out of embarrassment.

"Good?" Sam asked, kissing the corner of his mouth.

"I just came faster than a teenage virgin, how can you even ask that?" Bucky huffed, opening his eyes.

Sam grinned down at him, his clean hand stroking Bucky's hair. "I suppose we're even now. If you want we can..."

"What I want is not the point," Bucky interrupted, slightly frustrated. "What do you want?"

Sam didn't even hesitate. "I want to fuck you so badly."

Bucky took his hand, still sticky with his cum, and sucked two fingers into his mouth. Sam let out a harsh breath, watching Bucky's lips as if enchanted by them.

"Lick it all off," he demanded. "Make my hand clean."

Bucky licked his hand as ordered, and he could feel Sam growing even harder against his thigh at the ministration. Once he was clean, Bucky took the two digits into his mouth again, his tongue stroking over the pads of his fingers. He spread his legs, cradling Sam's body between his thighs, inviting him to touch him.

Sam's fingers slid out of his mouth and he trailed a line of saliva down his chest, over his spent cock, down his balls, pressing lightly against his hole.

"Lube," Bucky said, his breathing already growing laboured again.

Sam got a small vial, which he popped open with one hand and then poured over his wet fingers, still resting against Bucky's hole.

"One first," Bucky instructed.

Sam pressed one of his fingers in, slowly, slowly, his eyes trained on Bucky's face, as if searching for any signs of pain. Bucky let his eyes fall closed, pushing his body to relax at the intrusion. It'd been a while since he'd done this and he'd almost forgotten the feeling of first being breached, the heat and the stretch of something new entering his body. He wasn't entirely sure that this body in this version had even had sex before, because he couldn't remember ever being this tight. Sam stopped when the finger was all the way inside.

"Good?"

Bucky nodded.

"Yes?" Sam sounded pleased. He slowly dragged the finger out again, grazing his prostate in. "I say, you can take two," Sam said.

When Bucky didn't protest, he pushed two fingers inside. It was more of a stretch and far too soon, bordering on painful, but Bucky didn't say anything. He just breathed and made himself relaxed. He liked this. He wanted Sam to be in charge, for Sam to decide what happened next. Sam slid his fingers in and out, occasionally bumping against his prostate but never quite pressing on it, making Bucky let out small, frustrated noises.

"What is it?" Sam said. "Want another one?" Before he could react, a third finger was pressed inside of him and this time he couldn't help but let out a small sound of pain. Sam immediately stilled, his free hand touching Bucky's forehead. "Did I hurt you?"

"No," Bucky said, letting out a deep breath, making himself relax again. "I can take it," he lied. He wanted this so badly, he wasn't going to let a little thing like pain get in the way.

Sam kissed him on the lips, then whispered, "You can take it." He shoved his fingers in and out, harsh and merciless, and Bucky's pain quickly transformed into pleasure. "Now, you're going to take my cock and you are going to like it. You are going to come from it."

It was a bit too soon, but Bucky didn't speak up, just let Sam pull his fingers out and sit back up so he could finally take his breeches off. Bucky tugged at his shirt, wanting him to take that off too, but Sam ignored him, too eager to spread his legs wider, pressing Bucky's knees against his chest so he was open and ready.

"You have no idea," Sam said, nudging his cock to Bucky's entrance. "No idea how good you look. How good you feel."

He pressed forward, the head of his cock breaching him slowly. Bucky's fingers buried in his shoulders, probably hard enough to bruise. It felt like forever and no time at all before he finally pressed through the ring of muscles and the tip got in.

Bucky gasped. It was just the tip but he already felt so incredibly full. It was too much, too tight, it burnt and it hurt more than it felt good. He was just about to protest, to tell Sam that he had to stop, that they needed more lube, more prep, when Sam suddenly groaned loudly, his whole body convulsing, and he felt something wet splash inside of him. Sam fell forward, landing on Bucky's chest, panting loudly, his dick already slipping out of him.

Bucky laid there underneath him, his chest sheeted in sweat, feeling confused for a few moments.

"You came?" Bucky said, suddenly on the verge of laughter. Apparently, he needn't have felt embarrassed from coming too soon earlier.

"Hm? Yes." Sam kissed his chest, shifting slightly so he wasn't crushing him beneath his weight. "That felt so good."

This time Bucky did laugh.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing."

"You're hard again," Sam commented, his hand wrapping around his cock, jerking him lazily. The mere thought of laughter immediately died. "You wanted me to push in further, didn't you? I finished too fast. That's why you laughed, isn't it?"

"I wasn't - ah - laughing at you." His hips canted off the bed.

"I order you to tell the truth," Sam said teasingly, tightening his grip.

"Yes," he admitted. "But I get why you came so fast, I was probably too tight."

"Yes," Sam said warmly. "So tight, I thought I was going to die."

His hand let go of Bucky's dick and he whined in protest. Sam's fingers found his entrance again, now dripping with lube and Sam's cum, and pressed a finger to the entrance. Bucky winced, still slightly sore.

"Get on your stomach," Sam commanded, pulling back. He finally unbuttoned his doublet, taking it off. When Bucky didn't move, just watched him appreciatively, he paused and gave Bucky an expectant look. "That's an order."

Bucky rolled over to his stomach, lifting his hips up slightly, knowing what Sam wanted. He felt Sam's fingers prodding against his entrance again, this time going slower, his movements softer. Now that he'd come he seemed more aware of Bucky's comfort level, taking his time to slide one finger in, fucking him with it slowly until he was loose enough for another, pouring a more generous amount of lube on his hole. Bucky's hands tore into the sheets, his hips moving in rhythm with Sam's fingers.

Sam pressed against his prostate and he cursed loudly, pleasure sparking through his body.

"There?" Sam said, pressing more insistently against it. "Like that?"

"Sam, fuck, yes," he blabbered, pleasure building beneath his bellybutton. He was getting closer, closer, closer...

"Yes." Sam's fingers suddenly withdrew and Bucky basically sobbed in despair. Something else, something bigger and more rounded replaced it, and he realised that Sam was going to try again. "You can take my cock now, can't you? I know you can." He pressed forward, and this time the head slid in more easily, with only a burning stretch that Bucky could easily take.

Bucky buried his face against the pillow, holding still as Sam slowly, inch by inch, pushed further and further inside of him, until his hips were flush with his ass. Sam groaned loudly, his nails digging into Bucky's asscheeks, pushing them apart to stare down on where they were connected. Where Sam was inside of him.

"You are the most beautiful man I've ever seen."

Bucky snorted, his breathing evening out as his body got used to the intrusion. "You only say that because you're inside of me."

Sam pulled out carefully, then slammed back in, pushing the air out of Bucky's lungs.

"Yes," he moaned. "Fuck, Sam. Faster."

Sam fucked him with such fever that it made the whole four-poster bed shake, which was a feat since the bed was huge. The headboard kept hitting the wall, almost as loud as the sound of skin slapping against shin. Bucky couldn't do anything other than scramble for purchase and hold on for the side. Sam changed the angle slightly, fucking into him deeper, and hit right against his prostate, making Bucky shout in pleasure. He held himself up with one hand as best he could, his hand circling his own cock, squeezing hard.

Then all he saw was stars.

*

Bucky woke up feeling sore in a way he hadn't in years. He stretched out over the silk sheets, fucked-out and content. Sam grumbled by his side, still half-asleep and clearly not appreciating Bucky waking up him by poking him in the side.

Damn, he was beautiful in the morning. Sunlight streamed in through the high windows, dancing over his warm skin, making him look like the fairytale prince he truly was.

"I need to get up," Bucky said. "Get to work."

Sam groaned, throwing his arm over Bucky's chest, as if that would keep him put. Sam snuggled against his shoulder, his breath hot against Bucky's skin. He knew it didn't mean anything. Partly because nothing here was real, but also because Sam was not cuddling him out of love. They'd had sex and it'd been fun, but that was it. This was not a couplely thing, just a morning-after thing. Still, he allowed himself to indulge, just for a few moments.

He was embarrassed about how many times he'd dreamt of having this, with Sam. Of fucking him, sure, but also waking up with him. Kissing him in the morning. Seeing him smile at him the first thing he did waking up.

He'd done everything he possibly could short from straight-up punching Sam in the face to make sure it wasn't evident. To make sure Sam never found out. It was too humiliating. He was in love with the guy who was in love with his best friend who'd chosen traveling through time to be with his ex rather than to be with him. Sam did not want to be with him, Sam barely wanted to be his friend, and Bucky had made it seem like the feeling was mutual. Like he only suffered Sam's presence because Steve had asked it of him and because the world needed saving every once in a while.

"I really do have to go," Bucky finally said. "And so do you. Your parents are expecting you for breakfast and we don't want your dad to show up like he did last time."

Sam sighed dramatically, opening his eyes. "Fine. I order you to leave and get back to work." His hand slid into Bucky's hair. "After you suck my dick."

Bucky sighed, equally dramatic. "Well, if that's what it takes."

He kissed down Sam's chest, taking him into his mouth. Sam was more assured this time, not hesitating to grab Bucky's hair and fuck into his mouth until he finished. Bucky pulled back before he came this time, letting him finish on his tongue and lips, the cum sliding down his chin. The sight of it made Sam groan, falling back with his arm over his eyes.

"You'll be the death of me."

He tried to give Bucky a quick hand job afterwards, but the guards began to knock, worried that Sam wasn't up yet, and Bucky was stuck with another set of blue balls for yet another day.

Fun.

Both he and Sam were kept busy all day, something Bucky was grateful for. If he was allowed to take a moment to relax and think, he'd start to freak out.

Had he really fucked Sam, as in had that been Sam's body, or were they stuck in some computer program where they inhibited virtual characters? Was Sam's real mind inside of that body, deep down, or was it really a made-up person he'd fucked? He had no idea.

If this was really Sam's body, what he'd done was not okay. If Sam was really stuck there, deep down, what he'd done was not okay. But if this was some computer program, if Sam was just a fictional character that had been created by whoever put Bucky in here, then maybe there was some leeway. Some room for him to be forgiven.

But did he want it to be a character? Truth to be told, some twisted part of him wished Sam was in there, that this truly was Sam's body that he'd gotten to touch and kiss, but he forced that twisted part away. It was too dark. Too terrible.

It was night before they met again, Bucky entering Sam's room to supposedly help him into his sleep clothes, only to find Sam already naked under the sheets, his back propped up against the pillows as he squinted at some paper.

"I order you to take off your boots and join me," Sam said without looking up.

Bucky snorted, already dragging his boots off. "What would you have done if Tommy was back here instead of me?"

"I guess I would've fucked Tommy."

Bucky forced himself to laugh, pretending that the comment didn't hurt. Of course, Sam just wanted someone to fuck, someone attractive and convenient who couldn't get pregnant.

He shed the rest of his clothes, crawling on top of the bed until he was hovering over Sam, but Sam didn't touch him straight away.

"I order you to rest on my lap," Sam said, still reading.

Bucky frowned, confused, but still rested his head on Sam's thighs. Sam's fingers immediately went to his hair, stroking him lightly, making Bucky shiver with pleasure. He closed his eyes, relaxing into the touch. He'd almost been lulled to sleep when Sam spoke up.

"You know what I liked, yesterday?" Sam asked casually, shifting as he put the papers away.

"Me sucking your dick?" Bucky suggested lazily.

"You called me Sam."

Bucky stiffened, suddenly wide awake.

"No one calls me Sam," he said, still stroking Bucky's hair. "My parents call me Samuel and everyone else call me by my titles."

"I'm sorry," Bucky said quickly, ready to smack himself. He'd forgotten that this world was different and he couldn't just call the prince of all people by a nickname. Not when he was a servant. "I overstepped."

"No, I said I liked it. It's what..."

Bucky didn't see where he was looking, but he could bet his arm - again - that it was on Eric's shield.

"I guess Eric told you that he used to call me that," Sam said wistfully.

Bucky shut his eyes, his chest tight. He was in Sam's lap, in the same bed where he'd already been fucked by Sam twice and given him a blowjob, and Sam was thinking of Steve. He was always thinking of Steve. Even in the real world, every second word out of his mouth was 'Steve'.

'Steve would have done this.' 'Steve thought that was wrong.' 'Steve threw the shield like this.'

Bucky hated that he was jealous of his own best friend. He'd especially hated himself back when Steve was still around, when he and Sam were still together. Then Steve left him and Bucky hated himself slightly less, but only slightly. Steve had been his best friend, his brother, for so long. Even if he'd chosen to leave, that didn't make it right for Bucky to go after his ex.

"He didn't die, you know," Sam said. "People just assumed that he did because he disappeared. He left. The war, the fighting, the death, it was too much for him. He needed to get away, to fo somewhere far far away and create a new life."

"I'm sorry," Bucky said.

"No, I'm sorry. I should've told you straight away when I remembered who you were, but I promised not to tell anyone where he was in case someone would come looking for him and it... It still hurts. Seeing him walk away was one of the most painful moments of my life."

Bucky rested his hand on top of Sam's on his head. "I'm glad you told me now."

Sam leaned down, kissing Bucky's temple.

"He was an idiot to leave," Bucky said.

It's not that Bucky didn't get it. Steve had been through so much, he of all people deserved peace and quiet. He deserved the beautiful life he built with Peggy. But how could he leave Sam? Bucky could hardly imagine leaving this fake version of Sam behind, even less the real one.

"He did what he had to do," Sam said.

"Did you love him?" Bucky asked, even though he already knew the answer to that question.

"Yes. Did you?"

"Yes. He was like a brother to me." Bucky felt tears prickling his eyes and blinked them away angrily.

It wasn't just questions about how Steve could've left Sam that kept Bucky up at night. It was how Steve could leave _him_. After everything they'd been through, after everything that had happened to Bucky, how could he just go?�

At the same time, he couldn't even be angry, because Steve had already given him so much. Had already saved him, time and time again. And he knew Steve hadn't left him because he didn't care, but because he thought Bucky had healed, at least a little bit. Because he thought Bucky still had a chance at a happy life in the present, because he thought Bucky and Sam would be there for each other.

No, Bucky wasn't angry. But he was sad. Steve was gone for good and it was breaking his heart to pieces.

"Do you miss him?" Sam asked.

Bucky buried his face against Sam's thigh. He didn't want to break down, not now, not here, not with Sam.

"It's okay," Sam said softly, resuming stroking his hair. "I miss him too. But at least we have each other now."

Yes, Bucky and Sam had each other. And even if Bucky couldn't have Sam the way he wished, that did not mean that he did not appreciate it. He and Sam might fight and Sam might only tolerate him for Steve's sake, but Sam was _there_. He was by Bucky's side when they trained, when they fought, when they went to VA meetings and meetings for those dealing with what it felt like to come back from the Snap.

This version of Sam was good. This version of Sam wanted Bucky. But Bucky would give him up, give up all the sex and the hair-stroking and the feeling of being wanted, if it meant he could be with the real Sam again. If it meant that he could look to his side and find his friend there.


	3. Chapter 3

"Have you noticed anything strange going on?" Bucky asked the cook.

"Do you remember where you lived and what you did before coming to work here?" he asked the maid.

"Do you ever dream of another life?" he asked one of the other manservants.

He kept getting disappointing answers. Everyone remembered their lives before coming here, everyone knew who they were and what they wanted, no one dreamt of anything other than possibly being richer or having a pretty wife. No one but Bucky suspected a thing.

Bucky got papers and ink from Sam's solar and when he had some moments alone, a few moments of privacy, he sat down and wrote what he knew.

Hydra was supposed to be gone, but that didn't mean there wasn't a possibility some rogue agent was involved. Zemo was locked up. There was S.W.O.R.D., who Sam trusted, but Bucky still hadn't forgotten how Hydra had hidden inside the old version of S.H.I.E.L.D. Who knew what S.W.O.R.D. was hiding?

The worst part was, he couldn't remember the last thing that happened before he woke up in this world. He remembered coming home from a mission, remembered talking to Sam about possibly trusting this new version of S.H.I.E.L.D. again, remembered getting a message from Rhodey, remembered him showing up with Sharon telling them to turn on the television, remembered seeing something that disturbed him deeply, but that was it. If only he could remember what it was that was on the TV, why it made him so uncomfortable, so upset, he could unlock all of this.

Or he'd just seen a bad film playing and it had nothing to do with this.

He sighed, giving up. Folding up the papers, he hid them underneath his pillow in the servant's quarters, and went to join Sam. He rarely slept on his own bed anymore, and he was pretty sure that the guards and the maids were suspecting something was up with him and Sam considering the state of Sam's sheets these days, but no one questioned him or commented on it. Maybe they didn't care, or maybe they didn't dare out of fear of angering the prince, but either way, the guard immediately pointed Bucky towards Sam's solar when he spotted him, which he appreciated.

He found Sam pouring over his papers like always. The king was getting better, but Sam still did most of the work.

"I like your guard," Bucky said casually, grabbing Sam's cup and emptying the wine that still remained.

"Not more than me, I hope," Sam said.

"I don't know. He looks rather strong. He he could pick me up and fuck me properly."

Sam leaned back in his chair, looking amused. "Is that so?"

"Yes."

Sam licked his lips, spreading his legs. "James."

"Yes?"

"I order you to come and sit on my cock."

Bucky had anticipated this. Sam wanted to fuck him most nights, and he'd gotten better at it too. Bucky had prepared himself beforehand, already loose and wet when he got out of his breeches and went to sit on Sam's lap, kissing him languidly as he sunk down on his cock. He tried to push back up again, but Sam's hands on his hips stopped him, forcing him to sit still, full to the brim, while Sam kissed him.

"What would you do if I ordered you fuck him?" Sam said, kissing down his neck.

"What?" Bucky responded, distracted by the feeling of Sam's cock inside of him, his own cock trapped between their bodies, wanting desperately to move and find some satisfaction.

"What if I ordered you to fuck that guard?" Sam scraped his teeth over Bucky's neck. "Would you do it?"

"I'd do anything you ordered me to do," Bucky said. Really, he would've said anything at this point if it meant Sam would just _move_.

"What if I asked him to come in here now?" Sam spread his asscheeks, pressing his finger to Bucky's hole, touching him right where Sam was entering him. "Had him push his dick in right here, together with mine?"

Bucky whined, his cock leaking against Sam's shirt.

"Yeah." Sam's hand left his ass, coming up to snake around his neck. "You'd like that? You'd be so full, James. So tight for us." His fingers pressed to Bucky's throat lightly, not enough to cut off his airflow, but enough to make Bucky feel it. "Move."

Bucky moved eagerly, jumping up and down on Sam's cock, while Sam sat there, leaned back and relaxed, his hand still around Bucky's throat. He had to shift a few times to get the angle just right, to get Sam's cock to hit right against his prostate, without his thighs getting too strained.

"Now stop," Sam commanded.

It took all the effort Bucky possessed to make himself stop, so close to the edge.

"It's a pretty image, you know. The idea of seeing you so full. But I'd never do it." He kissed Bucky on the lips, and it was no longer filthy or passionate, just warm. "I could never share you. You're mine."

Bucky swallowed, pulling out of the kiss. This was getting a bit too intense for him. He tried to move his hips again, but Sam forced him to stop once more.

"You're with me," he said firmly. "Say it."

"I can't..."

"I order you to say it."

Bucky stared down at Sam. This version of Sam that wasn't really Sam. They looked exactly the same. There wasn't a single thing about his face, not even a mole or an eyelash, out of place. If it weren't for the clothes, for the room, for the fact that he kept calling him 'James', Bucky could easily pretend that it really was Sam.

"I'm with you," he said. "I'm yours."

Sam grabbed him beneath his thighs and picked up him, dropping him on the table without ever getting his cock out of him. Papers scattered and fell to the floor as Sam pulled out and then fucked back into him, making the table _screech_ over the floor. Bucky grabbed onto Sam's shoulders, kissing him until he couldn't breathe, his heels pressing into Sam's ass, encouraging him to go deeper, faster.

The door was suddenly thrown open. "Your highness, we heard things..." The guard went deadly quiet.

Bucky couldn't see him, his back to the door, and could only imagine how he looked like to an observer. Naked and laid out on the table, taking a clothed Sam's harsh thrusts, unable to move or even speak.

"Get out!" Sam shouted at him, still moving his hips.

The door was slammed shut again.

Sam buried his face in Bucky's shoulder, his hips slowing down. "This is going to be all over the castle," he groaned.

"Pretty sure the whole castle knew already," Bucky panted, trying to get Sam to speed up again.

"Yeah, but now they'll _really_ know, and it'll for sure reach my father." Sam sighed, kissing Bucky's shoulder. "Well, then, we might as well get one last one."

Bucky was just about to ask 'Last one?', when Sam pulled out, angled his hips slightly, and shoved back in again, hitting right up against his prostate. After that, all he saw was stars.

He stumbled out of the solar afterwards, leaving Sam to finish up his work, and was wordlessly let into Sam's room by a red-faced guard. Bucky didn't know if he was the one who'd caught them or not, but either way, Sam was most likely right: everyone really knew right now.

If he was really a servant, he might've been embarrassed for being caught fucking the boss. But he wasn't, so really, he didn't give a shit.

He used Sam's bath, already filled for his evening wash. Sam always came inside of him, which was hot in the moment, but a bitch when he had to clean up afterwards. He stayed in the bath after he was done, letting the warm water loosed up his muscles. He must've fallen asleep at some point, because he was roused awake by loud noises.

The door was opened then quickly slammed shut, Sam coming to join him by the bath.

"Everything all right?"

"My father wants me to send you away."

Bucky tensed, dragging himself up. "What?"

Sam rubbed his forehead, looking like he had a headache. "I knew he would demand we end things the moment he found out, but I didn't think he'd have you lose your job. That's too cruel."

"I can't lose my job," Bucky said desperately. If he did, that meant no more Sam, which meant he was alone again with no idea what to do or where to go.

"I know," Sam said, sitting on the side of the tub. "I won't let him."

"But you'll let him end things between us?"

Sam wouldn't look at him, his fingers dancing over the water surface.

"Last one, huh?" Bucky said, trying not to sound too accusatory.

"James..."

"It's fine." Bucky leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He'd always known this was temporary. Sam was a prince and he was a servant. A male servant, at that. It wasn't like they were going to be forever. He didn't even want for it to be forever; he wanted to go home. He wanted the real world, the real Sam. This had just been convenient and pleasurable for both of them. "I get it."

"It's not that I don't want to be with you. I just can't."

"I get it," he repeated. "Really, I do."

Sam leaned down and kissed his forehead, his fingers playing with the wet strands of Bucky's hair. When he pulled back, Bucky was shocked to note tears in his eyes.

"I wish I could," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "I wish I could leave this castle, this world, and be someone else. Then I could be with you."

Bucky would've laughed if he wasn't so fucking sad. He knew that it wasn't true. Sam, the real Sam, didn't have any princely duties or a family breathing down his neck about marrying a pretty woman and having a bunch of heirs. He had every opportunity to choose Bucky. But he didn't. He never would.

"I won't let you lose your job, but I can't promise you'll get a good one. You might end up in the stables or anywhere that's far away enough for my father to be satisfied that I won't be tempted if I see you."

"Anywhere will be fine," Bucky said briskly, standing up, the water rushing off his body. He might as well leave, get it over with.

"I should've known better," Sam said, watching Bucky towel off. Bucky was going to miss taking proper baths and having soft towels. Now it was back to splashing himself with water from the basin and sharing a frayed, rough towel with five other men. "I knew that if we started something, it could hurt your job and your future, and I did it anyway. I thought... I don't know what I thought. I wasn't exactly thinking at the time."

Bucky jumped into his breeches, not saying anything. He didn't want to hear Sam apologize, not when Bucky was the one who'd actually done something wrong here.

"It's not fair that you should be punished..."

"Sam, for the last time," Bucky said, getting his shirt on. "It's fine."

"It's not fine!" exclaimed, hitting the water, making it splash over on his leg. "It's not."

Bucky smiled at him, trying to come off as calm and confident as possible. "I don't care where I work," he assured him. "And you'll find someone else."

"How can you even say that?" Sam said, sounding hurt.

"Because it's the truth."

*

He went through his papers, his scribbled notes, frowning. Every other word felt foreign to him. He knew he'd written them down, knew why he'd done it, but couldn't remember what any of it really meant.

S.W.O.R.D.? S.H.I.E.L.D.?

Hydra was familiar. He hated Hydra. He felt it down to his core. But the rest. The rest was starting to blur.

Fear gripped him. Was he starting to forget reality? Was his mind finally succumbing to whatever this is?

No, it could not be happening. He couldn't forget. He was not allowed to forget about... About...

What was it he wasn't supposed to forget now again?

He read through the notes again, but now all of it just looked ridiculous. What did any of it even _mean_?

Someone knocked on the door to his chambers, startling him into dropping some of the papers on the floor. Before he could say anything, Sam walked inside, closing the door behind him.

"Busy?" he asked, looking from Bucky on the bed to the papers strewn around his feet. "What are you reading?"

"I'm not sure," Bucky admitted.

"Look, James, I thought about what you said." Sam stepped over the papers, grabbing Bucky's shoulders. "You were wrong."

Bucky blinked, his mind still feeling foggy and disoriented. "About what?"

"Me finding someone else to replace you. I don't understand how you could even think that." His hands came up to cup Bucky's neck. "You are the only one I care about. I lo-"

He suddenly tensed, his eyes caught on something behind Bucky.

"Who are you?" he said harshly, his hands sliding off Bucky's shoulders.

Bucky twisted around and almost jumped into the air when he saw the woman standing there in the corner. She had definitely not been there a moment ago. She was tall and blonde, dressed like she didn't belong in this castle, in this era really, and Bucky had a feeling he'd met her before, although he didn't know from where.

"Wilson, Barnes," she said, sounding relieved. "I'm Agent Sharon Carter."

Yes, that name was definitely familiar. But from where?

He looked down at the scattered papers, his eyes searching over the smudged ink.

"How did you get in here?" Sam said warily, his hand going to the dagger resting on his hip. "What are you?"

"I know this is going to sound insane, but this isn't real. This world isn't real."

"What are you talking about."

 _There_. Bucky dove for one of his papers, straightening it out so he could read it properly.

"Sharon Carter," he repeated. "Agent of SHIELD."

"You know her?" Sam questioned.

"No. I mean, I don't know. Maybe?" He felt so lost. He'd written her name down for a reason, surely, but he couldn't figure out what that reason was. "What's SHIELD?"

"I'm not really part of SHIELD anymore, but yes, that's the gist of it," she said. "I'm from the real world. You've been trapped in a simulation..."

"Stop talking like that and explain how you got in here!" Sam demanded, drawing his dagger. "Before I have the guards come and get you."

"I am trying to..." Something about her flickered. It was as if she was finding in the light, almost like a ghost. "Look, the computer wants me out and I don't know how much longer I can stay here. Just please, hear me out. Leave the castle before the sun goes up, and go to the lake. There will be a portal there. I don't know what it'll look like but you'll probably know it when you see it. Walk through it and..."

"You're mad to think that I'll just take your orders!"

Bucky crumpled the papers in his hand. He might not remember who she was or what SHIELD was, but he remembered this much: he and Sam did not belong here. They needed to get out. And she was offering them a solution. "We'll be there," Bucky told her.

"Good, because I ca-" Then she was gone, like she'd never even been there in the first place.

Bucky grabbed Sam's arm. "Let's go."

"What?" Sam said, still staring at where Sharon had just stood.

"You heard her. The will be up soon, we have to go."

"We are not listening to some woman we don't even know."

"I know her."

"From where?"

"I don't know!" he snapped. "But she's right. This world isn't real, we have to leave."

"This is insanity!" Sam insisted angrily. "Of course this is real. You're telling me I'm dreaming or something?"

"Look." Bucky picked up another paper. "Samuel Wilson, son of Paul Wilson and Darlene Wilson. Brother of..."

"Those are not the names of my parents."

"These aren't your real parents." Bucky was starting to get anxious. He didn't know if this portal would return tomorrow night. This might be their only chance.

Sam shook his head, backing away. "I know you've lost it."

"No, Sam, please." Bucky took his hands, squeezing them desperately to keep him from leaving. "Think about it. You haven't noticed how your parents look nothing like you? How no one around here looks anything like you?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, this isn't real, Sam. This is a fairytale world that we've both been trapped in. You must've felt something as off."

"I am the Crown Prince..."

"You're Captain America! You used to be called the Falcon and you have this bird called Redwings who's..."

"Enough!" Sam snapped, twisting out of Bucky's grip. "I've had enough. I don't know what we just saw, but I know who I am, and I am not going to be some idiot easy prey who goes out in the middle of the night to be assassinated or eaten by some animal." He took a deep breath. "Go to sleep, James. Once you've rested up a bit we'll have a proper conversation."

"Conversation about what?" Bucky said. "What else is there to say?"

"About our future."

"What future? If we don't go, we might not have one."

But Sam had already opened the door, stepping past the threshold, still shaking his head. Bucky tried to run after him and grab him, but the guards got in his way, each taking one of his arms and holding him in place. If he was in his right state of mind, he could easily fight them off, but with his mind in shambles and his chest full of despair, he couldn't do anything but try to push past them and shout, "I'm going, with or without you!"

*

Going to the lake in the middle of the night with nothing to guide him except for a torch he'd snatched wasn't the best idea he'd ever had, but fuck it. He'd stumble and walk into trees and wipe blood off his scraped knees if he had to.

He faintly wondered what would happen if he died in this false world, but quickly pushed the idea away.

He had to get out. He had to get out so he could get Sam out. He saw no other choice.

He worried that he wouldn't know the portal when he saw it, but he worried for nothing, because it was giant. A big, blue circle, glowing in the dark between two trees. It couldn't scream 'magical portal out of a fake reality' mor if it tried.

Bucky had anticipated that he'd jump straight through it. Run towards reality, towards freedom. But when he saw it, all he could do was stare. If he left, it meant leaving Sam behind. Alone. And yes, he'd come back for him, obviously. But Sam would still be alone. And Bucky... Well, Bucky would go back to a reality where Sam never touched him. Where Sam barely even looked at him. Where he'd be alone again.

"James!" Sam called out.

He almost dropped the torch to the ground, fumbling to stop it from touching the dry grass and starting a forest fire. "Sam?" he questioned, lifting it above his head to spread the glow.

"What is that?" Sam stepped out of the shadows, dressed in his riding clothes, a swords strapped to his hip.

If Bucky wasn't in the process of leaving him behind, he would've jumped him right now.

"It's the portal out of here," Bucky said. "Why are you here? Do you finally remember?"

"What is there to remember?" Sam tore his eyes from the portal. "I don't understand what's going on. Nothing that you said made any sense. And yet, the portal is here, there's no denying it, and we both saw that woman."

"Sharon," Bucky said. Then he frowned. "I think."

"This is my world," Sam insisted, although he didn't sound as sure anymore. "I know this is real. My parents are here, my life is here. The people of this country need me."

"They don't," Bucky said.

Sam's face shuttered and he turned away. Bucky's words had been too harsh and he was driving him away.

"There are other people who need you," he added, softer. "People on the other side." He gestured at the portal. "Your sister, Sarah. Your brother, Gideon. Your nieces and nephews. The country, the one on the other side of the portal, needs you to pick up the shield and protect them. To protect everyone."

Sam shook his head, still unable to look at Bucky.

"You know I'm right, don't you?" Bucky said. "You can feel that you don't belong here, even if you don't remember."

"I don't feel anything," he said stubbornly.

"Sam." He squeezed Sam's shoulder, forcing him to look him in the eyes in the flickering torchlight. "Come with me. It's just one step through the portal and everything will be fine again."

Sam swallowed, his eyes shining with unshed tears. Bucky could tell this was hurting him. This was Sam's world, the people in the castle were his family, and Bucky was asking him to leave it all behind. He hated that he was hurting Sam like this, but he saw no other choice.

"Would you be with me?" Sam asked.

"Of course. I'll never leave your side."

Sam closed his eyes, leaning his forehead to Bucky's. Bucky closed his eyes as well, breathing Sam in, taking in this moment when it's just them, in the silent, dark forest.

"I can't," Sam finally said, tearing away. "I have to stay."

"Sam..."

"And so should you."

"This isn't real," Bucky insisted.

"So what if it isn't? We're happy, aren't we? This is a good life. I can make it a good life. I'll be the king soon, I'll get to rule this place, make sure it's good, that everyone's happy. I can make sure that we can stay together, side-by-side. Forever."

That last word threw Bucky. _Forever_ _?_ Where did that come from?

Was this this false reality trying to keep him there, stop him from leaving, or was this really what Sam wanted?

"We could be happy," Sam said desperately.

They could. They could be so happy. Sam would make a great king, just like he'd make a great Captain America. And Bucky... Well, Bucky would probably not make a great servant, but he'd been decent enough so far. Besides, if he stayed, he'd get to be with Sam. Forever.

Only this was not the real Sam. This was not the Sam that he wanted. Not really. That Sam would never give up his siblings, would never give up Steve's legacy, would never choose falsehood over reality. The real Sam wouldn't want to spend forever with the real Bucky.

"I can't stay," Bucky said.

"And I can't leave," Sam responded mournfully.

Bucky nodded and backed away. The portal's glow was fading. He'd have to walk through it soon.

"I'll come back for you," he promised Sam. "I promise. I will fix this."

"Goodbye James," Sam said, left behind in the dark.

"Goodbye, Sam."

Giving Sam one last glance, memorising the way he looked in his fine clothes, the way his eyes burned with love for Bucky and sadness that he was leaving. Then he turned away and stepped through the portal. Alone.


	4. Chapter 4

He gasped awake to the sound of beeping monitors, which immediately set him off. He trashed around, feeling electrodes being pulled off his head, the world around him a blur.

"Easy," someone said, grabbing his hands. Bucky punched them and then twisted their arm around.

"Barnes, calm down!" someone else shouted.

He had almost broken Rhodey's arm clean off when he realised he wasn't the enemy.

"Shit." Bucky let him go, backing away. "Sorry."

Carter rushed to Rhodey's side, helping him get up again, the metal pieces on his legs whirring.

Bucky sat back down on the bed he'd woken up in, looking down on himself. He was in a pair of pants and a t-shirt, probably the same thing he'd been wearing before this whole thing started, and his arm... His arm was silver.

He felt a stab of pain in his stomach. He hadn't realised how much having a real arm and then losing it again would hurt. How much he'd missed not being metal.

He shook the feeling off. There were more important things to worry about.

Glancing around the room, he noted all the screens and cameras and little machines. There were a thousand little wires hooked to a big machine of some sort in the middle of the room, some of which had just been connected to Bucky. Most of them were scattered on the floor, but a few still reached across the room, leading him all the way to...

"Sam!"

He was on the other side of the room, lying on a bed identical to Bucky's, his body connected to the machine with the little wires.

"Don't touch him!" Carter warned when Bucky got to his side. "You could hurt him."

Bucky had to physically hold himself back from touching Sam. He didn't look like he was in any pain at the moment, stuck in what seemed like a calm slumber, but Bucky knew better.

"What is going on?"

"He's stuck in a computer simulation of sorts," Rhodey explained calmly, after making sure his arm could still move as it should. "We all were."

"Can't you get him out?"

"I'm afraid not." A strange woman stepped into the room, holding a tablet under her arm, a badge hanging off the front of her shirt.

"Who are you?" Bucky barked.

"Calm," Rhodey said, using the same tone some might use with an unruly dog. "She's on our side."

Bucky did not want to calm down. What did 'our side' even mean? Rhodey had been on Tony's side fighting Bucky, Sam and Steve not that long ago. Then again, they did mostly make up because of Thanos, and Rhodey had been helpful to Sam with the whole Captain America thing. Apparently he got the pressure, as people kept expecting him to step up as the new Iron Man.

"I'm Monica Rambeau," she said kindly. "Director of S.W.O.R.D."

He knew about S.W.O.R.D. It was like S.H.I.E.L.D. without the whole Nazi infiltration. Yet.

"I have to say, it is an honor to meet..."

"Why can't we get Sam out?" he repeated, not really interested in this whole introduction thing.

"You have to leave by choice," Carter said, sitting down on Bucky's old bed. "Otherwise your mind sort of melts." She robbed her forehead. "I know that, because it almost happened to me."

"Yes, again, sorry about that," Rambeau said.

Carter waived her off.

"I thought you said you told both of them about the portal?" Rhodey said. "How come Sam isn't here?"

"He refused to come," Bucky said, feeling ashamed. He should've been able to convince Sam to come. "There must be another way."

"Getting Agent Carter in there once without making everything fall apart and trap you inside was difficult enough," Rambeau said. "I don't know if we can do it again. It's risky. We have to think about...

Sam gasped awake.

"Never mind," Rhodey said cheerfully. "Problem solved."

*

They were forced through a medical check-up, which Bucky only did because he wanted to avoid Sam for as long as possible. Bucky remembered everything, but he'd also been aware throughout the whole thing. Maybe Sam would forget everything now that he was back.

It was feeble hope, but it did exist. Unfortunately, it was crushed straight away when he heard from the others."

"I was stuck in Ancient Egypt," Rhodey said when they met up again.

They were seated in some sort of conference room, only there were no tables, only chairs spread around the room turned towards the front, where Rambaeu was standing, talking to some agents in low voices.

"But not, like, real Ancient Egypt. This weird, white-washed, everything's-made-out-of-gold version of Ancient Egypt." He made a face. "Everyone was white except for me and I didn't even notice."

"Same," Sam said, sitting just a bit behind Bucky.

Every hair on Bucky's body stood up, but he didn't move. Didn't make any noise or give any sign of acknowledging that he knew that Sam was there. That Sam was so close he could touch him.

That Sam remembered.

"I was a Viking," Carter said. "Which was badass, aesthetically speaking, but also I killed so many people." She shuddered. "I know they weren't real, but I can't seem to forget them. The sound of their screams, their blood on the ground, the smell of it all."

Sam put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"What about you two?" he asked Sam and Bucky. "You guys were int he same world, weren't you?"

Sam looked hesitant to answer. "I was the Crown Prince of some European kingdom."

"Wow," Carter said sarcastically. "You must have suffered."

Sam threw his arms up. "I didn't get to decide what weird ass ancient part of history I was going to end up in."

"What about you Barnes? " she asked Bucky.

"I was his servant."

She snorted loudly.

Rhodey laughed. "No way. That's incredible. Was he any good at his job?"

Sam cleared his throat uncomfortably. "He went above and beyond."

"All right," Rambaeu said, thankfully killing this conversation. "This is what we know. The four of you were kidnapped out of Sam Wilson's apartment about a month ago."

"A month?" Sam exclaimed. "We've been gone for a month?"

Bucky recognised the panic in his voice. It was similar to what he'd experienced after they finished fighting Thanos and he realised he'd missed five years of his life. Five years of seeing his nieces and nephews grow up.

"It felt like longer inside," Rhodey said.

"Yes, the simulation seems to have a different view on time. We still haven't quite figured it out." She sat down on the chair in the front. "We managed to track you down to a warehouse owned by some company owned by another owned by another. A dead end, basically. You were all hooked up to that machine."

"Weren't there any guards?" Sam said. "Anyone keeping track of us?"

"No, it was empty. It seems you were all left there to starve to death without noticing, since you were all so busy being trapped in your realities."

"That's grim," Rhodey said.

"We tried to unhook you as soon as we found you, but as mentioned previously, that wasn't too great for your brains." She gave Carter a pained look. "We discovered that the only way to get you out was for you to leave voluntarily. We built in a system to figure out when you would be the most susceptible to being convinced to leave, and sent in a message at that moment. Carter was the first one."

"We get anti-brainwashing training at S.H.I.E.L.D." Carter explained.

"Yes, and I'm sure it's great training," Rhodey said. Then he added in a cough, "Hydra."

"It's not perfect," Carter said, giving him a glare. "It took me a while to break out of it, but eventually I started to realise things weren't right. That I didn't belong there. So when I got the message from S.W.O.R.D. it wasn't hard to convince me to leave." He gave Bucky a sympathetic look. "I'm guessing the same happened to you? You started to figure out things weren't right, you started writing all of those notes down, and the system figured out you were susceptible so I jumped in."

It had been the opposite actually. He'd known all along, then towards the end he'd been forgetting, not remembering. He'd written the notes not because he was trying to figure out what was happening, but so that he'd have records of what he'd already figured out. He didn't get the chance to say any of that, though, before Sam jumped in.

"What about Rhodey?" he asked.

"I was really into religion, in that world," he said, sounding slightly embarrassed. "I saw everything as a sign for something, so when I got the message from the outside telling me to walk through a portal, I just sort of did it because I thought it was what the gods wanted."

"Yeah, he was the easiest to convince," Rambaeu agreed. "And Sam was apparently the hardest, although I'm glad Carter got through to you in the end."

"Sure," Sam said. "Quick question. Do you guys know what happened in our realities? Like, did you have insight?"

"Do you mean was it broadcasted to us like a sitcom?" Rambaeu said. "No."

"What...?"

"Look, I've been stuck in a false reality in the past as well," she said. "It's rough. I understand if you guys need to take a night to rest."

"We want to know who did this to us," Bucky said harshly.

"I also need to call my sister," Sam said. "If anyone has a phone."

"I'm afraid I can't have you do that," Rambaeu said carefully.

"Excuse me?" Sam's voice, which had just been kind and normal, was now weathering on the edge of rage.

"Whoever put you in that warehouse probably thinks you're all dead now," Rambaeu said. "And we want to keep it that way."

"My siblings already had one memorial for me," Sam said angrily, getting to his feet.

"I understand," she said placatingly.

"You couldn't possibly understand. I disappeared for five years and..."

"So did I!" she interrupted. "I disappeared and reappeared to find my mother dead. She died without me by her side. She died not knowing if I was coming back."

Sam went quiet, sitting down again.

"I'm not saying this to be cruel or to keep you from your families, I'm saying this to protect them. We don't know who did this to you, we don't know what they might do if they find out they failed. They might come after your families, your friends. Do you really want to take that risk?"

Sam didn't respond, but Bucky was sure he was fuming. He could basically feel the heat radiating off of him.

"To answer you, Barnes," she added, calmer. "We don't know who did this. We have some guesses, but nothing concrete. What we do know, however, is that you are in no fighting shape. We might've been able to keep your bodies fed and hydrated, but your bodies haven't moved in a month. Your joints and muscles have taken a serious hit." She paused. "Well, for three of you at least. Barnes, whatever you're on, you're mostly fine."

"Yeah," Bucky muttered.

"Besides that, you have taken a serious mental hit. You were stuck in another world, another reality, with a completely different life and different set of memories. I know from experience that this isn't just something you wake up from. You need to rest. Then you need to eat, get some sun, get some fresh air, go on some runs."

"And you need to gather more data," Carter said. "Because you're lost."

"Yes," Rambaeu said candidly. "We do and we are. We all need a few days."

"Give us what you've got and we'll help you," Sam said.

"After you rest," Rambaeu countered.

"I've been up for three days already," Carter said. "I've rested, I've eaten, I've been on a run. I've been busy helping you get the others out, but now that they're all here and they're safe, I want in on the information gathering."

Rambaeu hesitated, but gave a nod of agreement in the end.

Bucky relaxed slightly, knowing Carter was in. He didn't know this Rambaeu or S.W.O.R.D., but he knew Carter could be trusted. She'd been there for Steve, and she'd been there for Sam once Steve left (although without the kissing part, as far as he knew). If she sniffed out anything rotten, she'd get all of them out of there in a heartbeat.

"We have rooms set up for you on the third floor," Rambaeu said. "There's not a lot of activity up there and all of the windows are darkened, so you will not be seen by anyone. Even most of the people working here don't know about this."

Bucky didn't know if that was a sign that Rambaeu was being careful and considerate of their privacy, or if this was some sign that she didn't fully trust S.W.O.R.D. either. Either way, he was relieved. He wanted as little people to know about this as possible.

"Wilson, a quick word before you go," Rambaeu said when they all got up.

Bucky finally lifted his head to look at him, raising his eyebrow to ask if it was all okay. Sam nodded, his face an emotionless mask. Bucky decided to take him at his word and didn't try to stay behind with him.

"I need to call Pepper," Rhodney grumbled in the elevator ride up to the third floor. "Check up on Morgan." He rubbed his temples, looking deathly tired.

He hated to admit that Rambeu had a point; they were all suffering from a terrible hangover right now. Sleep might be whated they needed.

"You heard what she said," Bucky said. "No contact."

"I know, I know," he sighed. "Fuck, this was not how this was supposed to go. I was supposed to quit after Tony died. Retire. Help look after Morgan. But people kept calling for me, expecting me to be the new Iron Man, just because I still have the suit that Tony made me."

"Do you not want to be Iron Man?" Bucky asked.

"Tony is Iron Man," Rhodey said strictly, leaving no room for argument.

Bucky felt bad he even asked. He knew Rhodey loved Tony the same way he had loved Steve.

They finally arrived at the third floor and they stepped out into a large, round room, leading to a long hallway full of doors, leading to a window with heavy curtains.

"I guess we'll just pick one," Bucky said warily.

"Yeah." Rhodey went down the long hallway, stopping at the door as close to the window as possible. "Goodnight." He waived half-heartedly and disappeared into the room.

Bucky stayed in the round room, unsure what to do. There was a small couch there, a stand for a television but no actual television, and small that allowed in some weak sunlight but no images of the outside world. He just stood there and stared at the light until it disappeared completely.

The elevator dinged behind him again. He didn't move or turn around, recognising that it was Sam just by the sound of his steps over the harsh floor.

"You okay?" Sam asked kindly.

Bucky steeled himself. He had to do it at some point.

He turned around, forcing a smile as he faced Sam. "What did she want from you?"

"She wanted to ask me about the shield, she was afraid that whoever took us took that as well. I assured her that it's hidden safely but I couldn't tell her where."

Bucky nodded. "Good."

They descended into a long moment of awkward silence.

Sam looked up at him all of the sudden, his eyes frighteningly intense. He took a few steps forward, coming close enough to Bucky for him to reach out to touch him. "I need to as you something."

He swallowed. "Yeah?"

He looked down on his hands. "Is this real?"

Bucky didn't know what to say. That was not what he'd been expecting.

"Truth is, I can't really tell. We're stuck in this strange place surrounded by strangers and I can't speak to anyone in my family and I can't..." His breathing was coming in short, his voice anxious.

Bucky placed his hands on Sam's shoulders to calm him. "It's okay."

"I know you're real," Sam said. "I don't know why, but I can feel it. If you say this is the real world, I'll believe you."

"This is real," Bucky assured him. He was as sure of that as he had been that the medieval world had been fake. "We're out."

Sam nodded, relieved. "Okay." He took a deep breath, taking a few steps back from Bucky, letting his hands fall off. "I think Rambaeu was right; I need some rest."

"Yeah," Bucky agreed, even though he felt wide awake.

Sam picked a room seemingly at random and opened the door. "Goodnight, Bucky."

"Night."

He remained standing there in the hallway a long time after he disappeared, staring at the door.

The life might've been fake, but the memories remained. He couldn't get the images of the false version of Sam out of his head. All those times Bucky went with him to his room, all the times he was the one closing the door so they could be alone together.

The last time really had been the last time, just like Sam had predicted.

He picked another room at random, a few doors down from Sam's so he wouldn't be tempted to go check on him but still close enough to reach him in time if anything bad happened. The rooms were simple; a bed, a bedside table, a lamp, an empty closet, and a round, green mat. He got out of the uniform pants and shirt he'd been allowed to borrow after the medical check-up and the shower, and laid down on top of the covers on the bed. Then he just laid there and stared at the roof.

He must've fallen asleep at some point, because he jostled awake when there was a knock on the door. He was immediately on high alert, feeling around on the bedside table for a weapon, only to find it empty except for the small lamp and a drawer that didn't even pull all the way out.

"Hey," Sam's soft voice carried through a small opening in the doorway. "Can I come in?"

Bucky let go of the poor lamp and turned it on to illuminate the dark room. "Yeah, come in."

Sam padded inside, carefully closing the door behind him, as if afraid any loud movements would wake someone up. He came to stand in the middle of the green rug, looking down on Bucky, who was still sitting on the bed.

"You okay?" Bucky asked, scooting to the edge so his legs were hanging off the side.

"I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep," Sam admitted, rubbing his eyes. "It was so strange. I reached across the bed expecting..." He trailed off. He swallowed. "I feel like we should talk. About everything."

"It's the middle of the night," Bucky said, as if he'd be going back to sleep after this.

"It can't have been easy for you," Sam pressed. "Being stuck there and having your memories slowly return without knowing what they all were or what they meant. And you had to deal with it all alone."

That wasn't what had happened exactly, but Bucky didn't want to talk about what actually happened. He wanted not to talk about it at all. Still, he didn't want Sam to see how uncomfortable he was, so he tried to laugh it off. "And here I was thinking you were going to talk about how it couldn't be easy for me having to be your servant."

Sam snorted, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "Yeah, I feel a bit bad about it."

"You do?"

"I wasn't exactly the best boss. I did take advantage of the... of you... of a servant," he settled on awkwardly. He scratched the back of his neck, his eyes everywhere but on Bucky. It was kind of cute how embarrassed he looked.

"I don't think your servant minded. Or, well." Bucky leaned back on the bed nonchalantly.

Sam's arm dropped. "Well what?" he asked suspiciously.

"Nothing, nothing," he said innocently.

"Bucky."

"I'm just saying, I suppose a servant might've assumed a Prince would be... You know... Good."

He raised hie eyebrows, taking a few steps closer to Bucky. "Good?"

"Yeah, you know. At least decent."

" _Decent?_ " he exclaimed, scandalised.

"You got better over time," Bucky offered. "A little, at least."

"It's not like you were much better," Sam countered, sounding like he was just barely holding back laughter. "You were so easy. You came if I just breathed on you."

Bucky got on his feet, getting right in Sam's face. "Okay, you know what?"

Sam smiled at him, close enough to touch. Close enough to kiss. "What?"

Bucky lost his train of thought. He'd made a mistake. He could feel Sam's body heat radiating off him and it was sparking involuntary memories.

"I want to state, for the record, that the fake version of me didn't have any of my memories and therefore none of my abilities," Sam said, still teasing. His eyes were moving down Bucky's face, landing on his lips. Bucky took a step back and Sam followed. "I can assure you, if it had really been me in there, _'good'_ would be the last thing you'd call me."

Bucky's back hit the wall, but Sam didn't stop, crowding him up against it. His eyes trailed up again, meeting Bucky's. They held the same heat as the one in Prince Sam's eyes the first time he'd shown interest in Bucky.

Bucky was starting to wonder if this really was the real world after all. Why would the real Sam be interested in him all of the sudden? It made no sense.

Either way, this joke was going too far and he should stop it. He wasn't going to, because that would mean Sam won this game of chicken, but he _should_.

"Oh, so ' _bad'_ is the word I'd be using, then?" Bucky said.

Sam's hands landed on Bucky's hips and his breath stuttered. "Fuck you," Sam said.

Bucky sighed dramatically, right in Sam's face. "I don't know, in my experience you're not really worth the effort."

Sam kissed him so hard Bucky's lips would probably be bruised. The back of his head hit against the wall behind him, Sam pushing into the kiss like his life depended on it, like this was all he'd been wanting to do for days. Bucky gasped into this kiss, unsure what to do, where to go. Sam's hands moved over his naked torso, up his chest, grabbing him by the back of his neck to pull him in further.

"Is this okay?" Sam panted against his lips when Bucky still hadn't moved. "Should I stop?"

Bucky didn't know what to say. He had not been prepared for this. This was Sam, the real Sam, doing this to him in the real world.

This was what he'd wanted all along. This was what he'd dreamt of, inside of that fake reality. But it felt wrong. Sam was confused and fraught. He'd just woken up from a world where they were lovers and he was still struggling with the fact that it hadn't been real. That _this_ world was real.

And Bucky no longer had any excuses for not taking advantage.

Regretfully, despite the protests of his entire body, he pushed Sam away gently.

Sam immediately let him go, taking a few steps back. "I'm sorry. You don't want this."

"I do," Bucky said, because there was no reason to lie now. "I really do. But it's the middle of the night and we just came back from a really fucked up situation. We really should rest before making any decisions."

Sam let out a joyless laugh. "Look at you, being reasonable and mature. It doesn't suit you."

"Yeah, I hate it too. You have no idea how badly I want to just fuck you right now."

Sam's lips twitched into a real smile. He leaned forward, resting his forehead on Bucky's shoulder.

Bucky almost startled. He'd expected Sam to leave, but instead he wrapped his arms around Bucky's waist, hugging him close. "Okay if I stay here? To sleep, I mean."

Bucky hugged him back, unable to stop himself. It felt good to have Sam in his arms, to feel his weight and his warmth, knowing that he felt safe standing there. "Of course."

*

When he woke up, he was for a moment back in the false reality. Back in the Prince's room, on the big bed and soft sheets, Sam looking down at his body with wonder. Then he stretched out and almost fell off the slim bed and was brought straight back into reality.

Sam snickered at him flailingly fighting to stay on the mattress, doing nothing to help him get steady. He was sitting by Bucky's legs, somehow fitting his body between them and the wall. He was still in the t-shirt and shorts he'd gone to sleep in and it really shouldn't be as hot as it was.

Bucky pulled the covers over his stomach, pulling his leg up slightly in an attempt to hide his obvious bulge. Sam didn't seem to get the message of what he was trying to do, because he just leaned forward and rested his chin on Bucky's knee, coming even closer to the bulge.

"I'm curious," Sam said, his hand stroking up and down Bucky's thigh. "That whole thing about taking orders in bed. Was that a fake-servant thing, or is that a you thing?"

"I'm also curious," Bucky said, because two could play this game. "The whole thing about you not putting anything in your mouth. Was that a prince thing, or are you just too prim and proper?"

"Oh," Sam said, his hands sliding over Bucky's arms, "are you referring to the millions of times you tried to hint at this?" He took Bucky's human hand and lifted it to his mouth, his tongue darting out to lick his digits.

Bucky's breath caught. Sam opened his mouth, slowly taking the tips of his fingers into his mouth and sucking lightly.

"Yeah, that was it," Bucky said, voice strangled.

Sam pulled off with a wet _pop_. "It's strange, isn't it?" he said, sending puffs of air over Bucky's wet fingers. "I can remember the way it felt to kiss you, to have your mouth on me, to fuck you. I can remember how good it all was. But it never happened. Not really."

Bucky really had thought Sam would get back to his old self, the one who never showed any interest in Bucky whatsoever, once he'd had some rest. Once he felt safe that this was reality and that they'd left the false world behind.

He was not unhappy to be wrong.

"I want it," Sam said, his free hand sliding down the inside of his thigh again, disappearing underneath the covers. Bucky felt his fingers feeling down this groin, finding his dick already fully hard.

His jaw clenched as he struggled not to move or make a sound when Sam's fingers wrapped around him.

"Do you?" He took Bucky's fingers between his lips again, his tongue lapping at his digits while his hand stroked down his dick.

And really, what was Bucky supposed to say to that? _No_?

"You're just trying to save your reputation," Bucky joked, trying to cover for how badly he wanted this. "Make up for how disastrous you were back there."

He pulled off Bucky's fingers again, his eyes sparking with mischief. "Disastrous? I'll show you disastrous." He pounced, kissing Bucky while his hand took a tighter grip on his dick.

Bucky kissed him back this time, opening his mouth to his tongue, letting Sam take charge.

This was the real Sam in the real world making his own decisions. He was rested, he knew where he was and who he was and had the same memories as Bucky. Bucky had no reason to turn him down.

Except for the small part of him that kept reminding him that this wasn't what he actually wanted.

Sure, he wanted to have sex with the real Sam, but there was more to it than that. He wanted more. And he wasn't going to get more. Sam wanted to fuck him now because it'd felt good to fuck him in the fake reality. Because he was horny and perhaps a bit lost and lonely. It wasn't about starting a relationship, it was just physical.

But Bucky could do physical. In fact, he excelled at physical.

He grabbed the back of Sam's neck and kissed him back feverently, lifting himself off the bed slightly.

"Don't know if they have any stuff here," he panted between kisses.

Sam trailed his lips down his neck, scraping his teeth over his pulse.

"If you're going to fuck me we need..."

"No, I'm not going to fuck you right now," Sam said, pushing Bucky back down on the bed again, grinning at him. "You were right. There was something I should've done back there that I didn't." Then he kissed him on the chin, his throat, down his chest, and Bucky melted into the mattress.

Was Sam really...?

His lips touched his belly button and his stomach muscles tensed.

"This is just not fair," Sam groaned, his hands caressing Bucky's stomach. "I lost so much muscle stuck in that machine, and here you are, just as hot as you've always been."

"You're just as hot too," Bucky said. Yes, he was thinner than he'd been before this all happened, but that didn't matter. It was Sam. He would be hot in any shape or form.

Sam kissed his left hip, pushing his thighs apart. Bucky got back up on his forearms so he could look down on Sam as he kissed the inside of his thighs gently, as if afraid he might break, his hands coming underneath his legs and wrapping around them.

If there was ever an imagine that made him think he might be dreaming, it was this. Sam, with his head between his legs, looking happy and relaxed as he kissed every inch of his skin, except for the part that Bucky really wanted him to kiss.

Fuck it, but Sam was right. Already, this was better than anything he'd experienced in the fake reality. Not just because Sam was clearly about to suck his dick, but because he was taking his time and knew what he was doing. And most of all, because it was really him.

Sam finally lifted his head and kissed the tip of Bucky's dick.

Bucky tensed up for a moment. "Are you sure?" he asked. "You don't have to."

"Trust me," Sam said, meeting his eyes, his pupils already blown wide. "I'm sure."

He parted his lips, taking the tip of his cock into his mouth, and Bucky let out an embarrassing whine.

It wasn't his fault he'd been waiting for this for so long.

Sam sucked on him gently, his hand closing around the root of his length to hold him steady as he took more and more of him into his mouth. Once he'd seemingly reached his limit, he pulled back up, sucking while he moved, making Bucky's thighs shake. He pulled off, a string of saliva connecting his lips to Bucky's hard cock, and looked up at Bucky.

"How do you like it?" he asked, as if all of Bucky's dreams hadn't already come true. "Tell me."

"Anything, just keep going," Bucky begged.

"Hmm, you don't want to boss me around?" he said, still stroking him as he spoke. "To get back at me?"

"Not really, no." Ordering someone around in bed had never been his thing.

"Want me to boss you?" He grinned. "You never did say if that was your thing or not."

"I want your mouth on my dick," Bucky said impatiently. "That's all."

Sam didn't waste any more time talking, but took him in his mouth again, going further and further down until Bucky could feel himself hit the back of his throat. Sam swallowed around him and then pulled back up, bobbing his head a few times before going all the way down again.

He never managed to swallow him to the root like Bucky had done for him, but really, Bucky did not care. This was fucking amazing. He wanted to fall down on the bed and close his eyes and just take in the waves of pleasure, but at the same time he didn't want to miss a single moment of seeing Sam down between his thighs, devouring him.

Sam's free hand moved down behind his balls, until he touched Bucky's hole. He didn't try to push in, there was nothing to lubricate the way, not even spit, but he held his finger there as if to remind Bucky that he'd once been inside of him. At least, in their minds he had. And Bucky remembered it really fucking well.

He pulled off his cock again, making Bucky whine pathetically, and kissed down the underside of his length. He kept going, down and down, until Bucky felt his breath against his hole.

He couldn't take it anymore after that, he had to let himself fall back, staring up at the ceiling as Sam's tongue darted out and licked him over his hole.

"Fuck!" Bucky exclaimed, his hips canting up. "Sam, what...?"

"Just relax," Sam said, licking a long stripe from his hole up to his balls. "I've got you."

Bucky knew that this was something people sometimes did, but he'd never, not once, had anyone do what Sam did to him with his tongue in the following minutes. He saw nothing but white. He made noises that held no meaning, so close to orgasm and yet held off on the edge. He thought he was going to start screaming.

It was no time at all before he was an incoherent, shaking mess, his cock leaking on his stomach.

"Sam, please," he begged. "Please." He didn't even know what he was asking for, he just needed _something_.

His cock was enveloped in wet heat once more as Sam took him back into his mouth, sucking him down until he hit the back of his throat, and Bucky couldn't take it anymore.

"I'm going... I'm going to..." His hips jerked up as his orgasm crashed into him. "Fuck, Sam!"

Sam managed to pull back at the last moment, catching most of it on his tongue and his lips.

Bucky couldn't move, his legs completely useless. Sam kissed his softening cock one last time before pulling the covers back up and resting his head on Bucky's stomach.

"Now, on a scale of _decent_ to _good_..."

"Shut up," Bucky groaned, throwing his arm over his eyes. "You're ruining my afterglow."

"Sorry," Sam said, not sounding sorry at all. He crawled up Bucky's body, shoving his arm aside so he could kiss him.

Bucky was pretty sure that he could taste himself on Sam's lips and that shouldn't be as hot as it was. The kiss was languid and slow, not in any hurry, and Bucky allowed himself to melt into it. He could feel Sam's hardness against his thigh and he tried to reach for it, but Sam stopped him, pulling out of the kiss.

He looked down at him with the same look in the eyes as Prince Sam had once had. Bucky didn't know what that meant. Prince Sam had seen him as his servant and convenient fuck. Real Sam didn't see him as a servant, obviously, but maybe this was a convenient fuck.

Either way, Bucky didn't like the reminder, so he broke eye contact and tried to take hold of Sam's hardness again.

"Just lie still," Sam said, pressing a hand to his chest. Then he moved to straddle Bucky, his knees on either side of his ribs, sitting down gently on his stomach. He pushed down his shorts and his cock sprung up, so close to Bucky's mouth and yet he wasn't allowed to taste it.

Sam grabbed his own cock and stroked himself, his free hand moving into Bucky's hair and scratching his head lightly.

"It's insane how hot you are," he said, calm as if he wasn't currently getting himself off. "You know the whole time we were sitting in that room with Rambaeu, I couldn't even look at you, because if I did all I could think about was whether your naked body really was that hot in real life as well."

Bucky stroked Sam's thighs, his eyes stuck on the sight of his hand moving up and down his length.

"I wish we had stuff here for me to fuck you properly. What sort of institution doesn't have lube and condoms for their visiting agents?"

Bucky laughed. "I can still suck you. Come on, you know I'm good at it."

"Hmm," he scratched Bucky's head. "I'm not sure."

 _Not sure_? Bucky's body in the fake reality might've been inexperienced, but his mind hadn't been and he was pretty sure that he'd given Sam the best damn blowjob he could imagine.

"I think..."

The door suddenly swung open.

"Is anyone here? I can't find..." Rhodey stopped in the doorway.

Sam twisted around to stare at him.

Rhodey stared back.

"You two clearly need more rest," he said and politely closed the door.

Sam fell forward, landing on Bucky's chest, his whole body shaking. "No."

Bucky burst into laughter. "Cannot believe you didn't lock the door. You really should know better with your experiences."

"No, no, no. I can't ever leave this room. It's over. I'm done."

"It could've been worse," Bucky pointed out. "What if he'd walked in on us with you balls-deep inside of me. That would've been _really_ awkward."

Sam hit his chest with a balled-up fist half-heartedly. "Shut up."

"Now all he saw was you holding your dick."

"Stop talking!"

"Make me."

Sam sat up again, grabbing his hair, and without preamble he fed his cock into Bucky's mouth.

Bucky had done this a million times in the fake world, and yet this felt like a first. The taste of him, the smell of him, it was the same and yet completely different. This was _real_.

It was an odd angle, so he couldn't take him as deep down as he wanted, but he didn't have to either. It seemed like Sam was much closer to the edge than he had been letting on because Bucky had just been sucking him for a few minutes when Sam's fingers tightened in his hair and held him still as he came in his mouth. Bucky swallowed him down and kept sucking until Sam whined from the overstimulation and pulled away, lying down beside him.

"Now what?" Bucky said, wiping the excess off his chin.

"Now we die of mortification," Sam said.

"I don't remember you caring this much when your guard saw us."

"I didn't want the guards to respect me, now did I?"

"You think fucking me will make you lose respect?"

"No, I think Rhodey seeing me naked moments before orgasming is going to make him unable to look me in the eyes for a few years, at least."

Bucky burst into laughter again. "That's true."

"You're the worst. Why do I even sleep with you?"

"I don't know. On a scale of _decent_ to _good_ , where would you...?"

Sam hit him weakly on the chest again. "I want to go back to the time where you hated me."

Bucky frowned. "I never hated you."

"Fine, when you were so grumpy that I kept suspecting you might hate me."

Right, Bucky had done that, hadn't he? Acted all rude and angry so Sam wouldn't get too close and notice he was into him. That felt so far away now.

Sam threw his arm over Bucky's chest, plastering to his side.

"We should get up," he said, in complete contradiction with his body-language. "They might've finally figured out who took ."

"Yeah," Bucky said, even though he didn't really want to. He wanted to stay here, in this little bubble, with Sam. This was reality, but it still felt like they were in their own world of sorts, not quite out in the real world yet. Allowed to take a few moments before they confronted the everything again.

Once they were out of this room, he had no idea what would happen to them. He had no idea of Sam would want to do this again or if it was just a one-time thing. He had no idea about a lot of stuff.

"The quicker we figure it out, the quicker I can call my family," Sam finally said and pulled his arm off Bucky. He sat up, stretching his arms above his head.

They found a working bathroom and each jumped in to get a quick wash, putting on the clothes they'd been borrowed before heading back into the elevator to the floor they'd all met in last night.

Carter met them outside the elevator, her face grim.

"Did you figure it out?" Sam asked.

"Partly. Do you guys remember what happened right before we ended up in those strange realities?"

"Not really," Sam said.

"We were at Sam's apartment," Bucky recalled. "Then you and Rhodey showed up, just a few moments apart, and told us to turn on the television."

Carter nodded. "That's what I remembered too. We started looking into it and, well..." She sighed. "You better have a look."

She directed them back to the conference room they'd met at yesterday. Rambaeu was already waiting at the front, but instead standing in front of a blank wall, there was a screen behind her.

"We don't have all the facts yet, but we do have this," Rambaeu said, clicking a remote to turn on the screen. "We believe this is what you saw right before you were taken, and that whoever's involved with this was involved with whoever took you."

"What is it?" Sam asked.

"This is from a live recording from Yankee Stadium from about a month ago."

Right there, on the screen, standing in front of an audience of a thousand people, was Captain America, waving at the camera.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of these days I'll write a story where people have proper conversations BEFORE having sex. But not today.


	5. Chapter 5

Sam was on his third lap, panting so hard Bucky worried he might collapse right there on the grass. Bucky should probably stop him, tell him to come back inside, to hear what other information Rambaeu had gathered, but he couldn't bring himself to move. He had no idea how to take Sam out of his shock when he was still stuck in his own.

"Okay, enough," Carter said, stomping out on the yard outside of the facility. "Come on, you two." She went to stand in the middle of the track Sam had been running, forcing him to come to a halt. He didn't look to happy about it, trying to side-step her, but Bucky finally got his legs moving and closed him in from the side.

"Rambeu told me to try and exercise," Sam panted, his voice rough and scratchy. He probably needed a few bottles of water right now.

"Exercise, not run yourself into the ground," Carter admonished. "What are you doing?"

He wiped his forehead with his sleeve, not answering her question.

"Did you not see what they've done?" she said angrily to the both of them.

"I saw my dead best friend in the middle of Yankee Stadium waving at a crowd one month ago," Bucky growled.

"That's not Steve."

"Obviously it's not Steve," Sam said. "But it's someone pretending to be Steve on national television, and the world believed it. It is messed up."

"It is messed up," she agreed. "This guy needs to be stopped. I know this is shocking and painful, but you can't just..."

"What do you know?" he snapped at her. Both Bucky and Carter flinched, unused to him sounding so angry. "What do you know about what I feel, huh? Steve left me his shield and his title and a couple of months later I've already lost it to some asshole on television. Who knows what he's been doing to Steve's reputation, to his legacy?"

"I cared about Steve too, you know," she said, her voice steel. "Maybe I wasn't as close to him as you two were, but that doesn't mean that I don't get it."

Sam deflated, the anger seeping out of him. He rubbed his temples, looking exhausted. "I'm sorry I yelled. I just don't get what's going on."

"Come back inside, take a shower, have something to eat, and we'll discuss what we know, all right?"

Sam didn't look like he wanted to. He glanced around the yard, watching the guards guarding the perimeters, probably wondering if he could make a dash for it.

"No one will force us to stay," Carter said. "Rambaeu promised me that. But I'm staying because I need to get to the bottom of this, and they can help us. For Steve."

Sam let out a deep breath. "All right. I'll come inside in a moment."

"Good." She didn't move, just kept staring at Sam, who stared at her back. "Okay, you know what? If it makes you feel better, you can say it. Just this once."

"I don't know what you're..."

"I'll only give you this one time," she warned.

"You kissed your aunt's husband," he said immediately, the worst bursting out of him as if he'd been holding them back for a while.

"Yep."

Funnily, Sam did look like saying that made him feel a bitter better. "The guy you kissed travelled back in time to marry your aunt."

"That he did," she said, voice and face completely neutral. "To be fair, we were never actually together. It was just that one kiss."

Sam snorted loudly. "Okay, yeah, it's off my chest now. Feels good."

"Great. Let's never discuss this again." She shifted, as if to leave, but then stopped. "By the way, I found Rhodey trying to bleach his eyes this morning. Apparently he saw something odd. Wondering what that could have been."

Sam narrowed his eyes. "Tell Rhodey to keep his mouth shut."

"Oh, I don't think it's his mouth we should be worried about." She gave Bucky a significant look.

He kept his face passive, as if he had no idea what she was talking about, but she clearly didn't buy it. She sent him a wink before leaving them alone.

"I can see what Steve liked about her," Sam mused.

The sentiment surprised Bucky. Sam and Carter had always been on friendly terms, but he'd assumed that was because, like she said, she and Steve were never actually officially together. Not the way Steve and Sam had been.

Sam sighed and sat down on the ground, his shoulders slumping forwards.

"Do you need water?" Bucky asked.

"Yes. But before that, come sit with me." He reached his arms out for Bucky.

Bucky didn't see how he'd be more helpful than water, but he still sat down with him on the grass. Sam shifted around so he was sitting between Bucky's legs, his back to Bucky's chest. Bucky leaned his forehead on the top of Sam's head, closing his eyes. It felt good to have him here, so warm and close and safe.

"You know, Steve and I first met on a run," Sam said wistfully.

Bucky's threw his eyes open. Of course Sam was still thinking of Steve. He was always thinking of Steve.

He shouldn't be bitter about it, he thought about Steve fairly often as well, but it wasn't the same. Bucky was remembering his friend. Sam was remembering his former lover.

"He kept running past me, over and over again." His breathing had evened out, but when Bucky touched his wrist his pulse was still sky high. "He was such a little shit."

Bucky snorted. "Yeah, he was."

"Whoever's got his uniform on, pretending to be him, probably wouldn't ever have done that."

"Been a shit to a random person while out running?"

"Get to know a guy he met on a run and make friends with him," Sam said. "Learn how to trust him and when to ask him for help."

"Yeah, you're right."

Sam turned his head around, his nose touching Bucky's chin. Bucky tilted his head down slightly, so they were eye-level, and Sam smiled at him warmly. He lifted his hand and ran it through Bucky's short hair, pulling him in for a soft kiss.

 _Really?_ Bucky wanted to ask. _Is now really the time to get laid?_

They were out in the open, and while the guards might not be standing right by them right now, they could soon walk past. Anyone could. But maybe Sam was into that.

Returning the kiss, he slid his hands down Sam's sides, to his hips, and then lower, framing his groin.

Sam jerked out of the kiss, pushing his hands away. "Bucky, come on," he laughed, getting up to his feet. "There are people around. Keep your hands to yourself."

That had been exactly Bucky's thoughts! "You started it," he said defensively, getting up as well.

Sam laughed again, giving him another chaste kiss. "Race you back."

"Sam, your body hasn't moved in over a month and you've already exhausted yourself, there is no way you'll actually be faster..." But Sam was already off, running back towards the building. "Fine!"

Bucky caught up with him in a second, and had run past him within two. By the time he reached the building's doors Sam was barely halfway there.

"You know what?" Sam panted once he caught up, doubled over, his arm wrapped around his stomach. "You're also a little shit."

"Aw," Carter said, greeting them at the door. "You're already at the cute nicknames stage."

She handed Sam a bottle of water and he downed it greedily. While he was occupied, her eyes landed on Bucky and she gave him an assessing look.

"I don't know what happened to you in that fake world, but you really are different," she said.

He frowned. "Different?"

She shrugged. "You're just so... _mellow_ ever since you came back."

"I am not mellow," he huffed, offended. "I could kill anyone in here."

"Sure you can, big guy," Sam said, patting him on the shoulder condescendingly. "Let's go see Rambaeu."

"I can!" he insisted to Carter and Sam's backs as they walked away.

 _Mellow?_ Fuck that. What did they know?

"You stink," Rhodey told Sam the moment they entered the room. Then, softer, "You good?"

"Yeah," Sam said. "You?"

"Could be better. My eyes still hurt."

"From the machine?" Rambeu said worriedly, stepping into the room followed by a gaggle of agents. "Carter didn't register any symptoms in her eyes, but if you..."

"No, no, I'm fine," Rhodey said quickly. "Let's just move on. What else did you want to say?"

*

Someone who looked like Steve, sounded like Steve and dressed in Steve's old Captain America outfit was out there pretending to be the real Captain America. The country had seemingly accepted this as reality. The government loved him, the media loved him, and most of all, the people loved him. He fought crime both nationally and internationally, he posed for photos with babies he rescued out of burning buildings and in the middle of baseball games, and he basically recreated the whole USO show for the modern era. He had to have a whole team working with him to pull all of this off.

"Steve Rogers was a fugitive until very recently," Sam pointed out. "We were literally on the run."

"Yes, but then hhe fought Thanos and that pretty much cleared up his reputation," Rambaeu said. "He's back being America's sweetheart."

"What I don't get is, why would he put us in those weird simulations?" Rhodey asked.

"We're still guessing," Rambaeu said. "But my guess is, they were trying to use those fake worlds to get information out of you. Place you in a place that's similar, but not quite the same, as the real world and see what you reveal about yourselves. I'm not sure, though. It might be a..."

"The codes," Rhodey said suddenly, sitting up straight, his voice panicked. "To the suits. I had these spells that I was making in the fake world and I kept writing down these sentences and numbers that I thought were given to me from the gods but really..."

"They were passcodes to Stark's suits?"

"Yes, the ones he left for me and Pepper."

Sam looked over his shoulder at Bucky. They seemed to get to the same realisation at the same time.

"The shield," Bucky suddenly realised. "In the fake world it was on your wall, in your room."

"That explains your apartment being a mess," one of the gaggle of agents said. She was short and brown-haired with thick glasses, perkier than the rest with her wide smile.

"My apartment being what?" Sam said.

Rambaeu glared at the woman who'd spoken. "We didn't want to hit you with all the bad news at once, but it's true. We sent some people over to your apartment and it's, well, in pieces. That's why I asked to make sure that the shield was safe."

"It is," Sam said. "I kept it in a safe in my apartment for like three days, but I moved it after that." He sighed. "I really liked that apartment."

"Rhodes, what about you? Should we go check on... wherever the suits are?"

"No, Pepper will keep them safe, I'm not worried," he said, calming slightly. "But I can't believe I gave it away so fast."

"It's not your fault," Carter said.

"Just, eh, out of curiosity," Sam said carefully. "Could whoever took us see everything that happened in the fake realities?"

"Not like playing out on a movie screen, but they could get data from you, yes. Until we got you out of there and cut it all off."

"Right."

"So the working theory is, whoever is behind this fake-Cap is also behind taking all of us?" Carter said.

"Yes.

Sam leaned forward, resting his head in his hands. He looked so tired, still. A sort of tiredness that wasn't just from a long run and bad sleep, but that ran deeper, for much longer.

"Maybe he should just have it," he said quietly.

"Excuse me?" Rhodey said.

"Maybe he should just have the shield and be Captain America."

"What?" Bucky barked angrily.

"He's doing what I'm supposed to be doing," Sam argued. "He's saving lives, protecting people, getting kittens out of trees."

"Steve left you the shield."

"Steve also thought I'd be able to carry it and his legacy safely, and I've already almost gotten myself killed and almost lost the shield."

" _Almost_." Bucky felt rage shot through him. How could Sam even think that someone else should carry the shield? This was what Steve had wanted.

"All I am saying is, maybe we should meet with this guy. See what kind of person he is."

"He's the kind of person who kidnaps people," Carter pointed out.

"Yeah, okay, good point, but..."

"Hey, did you guys see all the pictures he posed for?" the brown-haired, perky agent said. "Like, _all_ of them? Because I can show them." She clicked on her phone and sent the pictures up to the big screen.

There Captain America was, posing with saved babies and kittens and baseball players. There he was with cops and soldiers in uniform. And there he was, posing with some politician Bucky only recognised vaguely. And then some other man in a suit. And another. And...

"Is that the Oval Office?" Bucky said.

"Yep. And wait until you see this one."

There he was, posing next to what looked like high fence, and that was when Sam had enough.

"This guy is dead." He said it with such calm determination that it even scared Bucky. "I'm going to kill him."

"We don't kill people here," Rambaeu said, sounding worried.

Sam didn't say another word, he just turned around and left the room. No one tried to stop him, probably worried they'd lose a limb.

Everyone in the room looked at each other and then, simultaneously, turned to look at Bucky.

Bucky felt weirded out by having all of their eyes on him. Why did they all assume he would be the one to go after Sam or to explain his behaviour?

The fact that he was planning to go after Sam the moment he left was beside the point.

He found Sam in the room they'd woken up in, the machine now shut down but still there for some agents to analyse. Sam grabbed some of the wires hanging off of it and ripped it off, sending sparks flying.

"Hey, you can't just...!" one of the agents protested.

Bucky held his hand up to make the guy stop talking. "Get out."

"I can't."

Bucky met his eyes. "Get. Out."

And he was gone.

Sam grabbed another set of wires and ripped them out, throwing them to the side, already sweating again.

"Sam," Bucky said, calmer. "Calm down."

"Did you see that shit?" he shouted angrily. "The people he was smiling next to."

"I saw it," Bucky said, even though he wasn't entirely sure who most of them were.

"Steve would never talk to people like that," Sam said. "He would never support what they support."

"I believe you."

"He was standing outside of that fucking fence like it was no big deal! Steve would've torn that shit to pieces at first sight!"

"I know," Bucky said, grabbing Sam's arms to make him stop tearing into things. "But you're going to hurt yourself."

Sam stopped moving, panting loudly. "Steve deserves better than this."

"Yes," Bucky agreed. "Which is why we're going to get this guy. But we can't do that if you keep doing stupid shit like this."

Sam wrestled out of his grip and took a few steps away, rubbing his hands over his face.

"I know. Shit. My brain still feels scrambled. It feels like my mind is still trying to figure out what's real and not."

Bucky watched him quietly. Maybe this was why Carter thought he was mellow; he had no problems seeing what was real and not. For her and Sam and Rhodey, everything was still a mess, but Bucky had known what was up all along. That made every new piece of information so much easier to process calmly.

"We'll get him," Bucky said.

"Yes." Sam said straightened up again. "We'll get him."

"You cannot just ' _get him_ '," Rambaeu protested when they relayed their decision to her. "I'm afraid we can't support you just going and kidnapping someone."

"We're just supposed to allow this guy to keep pushing bullshit political agendas and doing who knows what to Steve's reputation?" Sam said angrily.

"Even putting Steve's reputation aside, this guy is dangerous," Carter said. "Him showing such public support for politicians or political causes can sway the public and convince people to vote for or supports things they wouldn't normally support. This could lead to terrible things."

"I know," Rambaeu said.

"We're going to get him," Bucky repeated.

"I know," she said again, sounding calm. "But I can't support you in this."

Bucky finally managed to fill in the gap. She couldn't support them, but she wasn't going to stop them either.

"So, you guys think on that." She nodded at the other agents in the room and they followed her out, leaving only Bucky, Carter, Sam and Rhodey behind.

"Okay," Sam said. "We're going..."

"You're not going anywhere," Carter said. "You've barely eaten, you're clearly tired, and you almost died out there taking a lap."

"That was more than a..."

"She's right," Rhodey interrupted Sam. "We have to assume this guy is at least half as strong as Steve was, and you're not in fighting shape."

"If I'm not in shape, neither are you," Sam bit back. "Sharon, just because you've been awake a few days longer than us, that doesn't mean you're ready to fight someone. And Rhodey...." He paused. "Well, I suppose you have your suit."

"I don't have it, like, on me," Rhodey said awkwardly. "I don't use the suit anymore."

"You just said you had access..."

"Yes, I have access, but I don't use it." He took a deep breath, his fingers touching the metal attached to his legs. "I'm not Iron Man."

"No one is asking you to be."

" _Everyone_ is asking me to be."

Rhodey met Sam's eyes, and there seemed to be a sense of understanding between them. Sam was to carry Captain America's legacy. Rhodey was left with Iron Man's. And yet, it was different. Steve had handed his shield over to Sam and asked him to pick up the mantle, but the world had seemingly decided to give it to someone else. But for Rhodey, as far as Bucky knew, Stark had never asked him to take his mantle, but the world kept asking him to.

Rhodey looked up at the sky. "All I have are a couple of suits that Tony left me when he died, and if I do something and they get damaged, that's it. It's over. His legacy is just... _gone_."

"He literally saved the world," Sam said. "His legacy will never be gone. Besides, Stark left you those suits for a reason. They're yours. Now, I'm not going to ask you to use them to help me out with this today, because that wouldn't be fair, but I don't think Stark would want you to never use them again. He fought to protect people and he'd want his suits to continue to be used for that. Even if they got destroyed in the process. It'd be worth it."

Rhodey nodded slowly. "That was a good speech."

"Yeah, I felt that too," Sam responded. "I should write that down."

"Okay, guys," Carter sighed. "Emotions aren't scary, you don't have to make everything into a joke."

"She's right," Sam said, spreading his arms. "We should hug it out."

Rhodey side-stepped him. "I don't know where your hands have been. Or in who."

"You know what?" Bucky said. "Are we really supposed to believe Stark never sucked your dick?"

"Oh my god!" Carter exclaimed, looking like she wasn't sure if she should laugh or cover her ears.

"Okay, so to conclude this," Rhodey said. "The logical choice here would be for me and the cyborg..."

"I'm human," Bucky said.

"You spent a month lying down and you still look like the fucking Terminator. I don't know what you are, but you are not human. Either way, the logical choice would be for me to put on the suit and the cyborg and go get the faker."

"I need to come," Sam said.

"You need to take a shower," Rhodey said. "And possibly eat something, dude, you're basically dead on your feet. And Carter, before you say anything..."

"I wasn't going to say anything. It's a good idea. The less people who go the smaller chance that we'll be detected. You neutralise him and fly him out. Don't engage with anyone or anything around him, even if you see something that's interesting. It's just a bag him and go type of job."

"Cool."

"I still..." Sam stared.

"No," all three of them said at the same time.

"I think I have a location, since Rambaeu kindly hasn't cut me out of any of the servers yet," Carter said. "We should move quickly."

"Yes, so you and your toy better do your tearful goodbye now," Rhodey told Sam. "Although, if there's going to be any kissing, I'd prefer to be warned."

"You know, you never responded to whether Stark ever sucked your dick."

"Well, did Steve ever...?"

"Boys, come on!" Carter interrupted. "If we're really going to get into who did and didn't fuck an Avenger, wait until I tell you about that time Black Widow and I were on a mission together."

They all stared at her, stunned.

"Okay, yeah, you win," Sam said.

"Great woman," Rhodey added. "We all miss her."

"What _did_ happen?" Bucky asked, morbidly fascinated.

"That's for me to know and you to wonder about. Are we ready to go or what?"

"Yes," all three of them said.

*

Bucky was exhausted by the time they made it back. He covered in grime and he was still spitting out dirt from when that bastard had him face-down on the ground. Even though the fake Captain America looked like Steve, equally tall with the same blonde hair and bright teeth and bulging muscles, Bucky really hadn't anticipated him to be as strong as Steve had been. And he wasn't. But he was still really fucking strong.

"So?" Sam prompted the moment he saw him. He looked clean-washed and probably had something to eat while they were gone, but he definitely hadn't had any sleep because he still looked exhausted. "I saw they got the guy in some holding cell in the basement."

"Yes, the mission was a success." Bucky sat down on the nearest chair, leaning back with his legs spread, wishing he could just sleep for a week. His body was working fast at healing all the cuts and bruises, but he could still feel them for now. "He thinks it's real."

"What?"

"That guy, when we grabbed him, he looked at me like... Like..." Bucky didn't know how to explain it. The whole thing had made him feel off kilter, which was why his fighting had been way off. "Like he knew me. Like he really _thought_ he knew me. He was shocked that I was alive."

"He really thinks he's Steve?" Sam said, astonished.

"Yes," Carter said, entering carrying a tablet. "They've got him in with some people form the psych department now and he really does think he's Steve."

"Are we sure he's not just faking it?" Sam said, sitting down as well.

"He's clearly been brainwashed."

Bucky did his best to keep his face neutral.

"I'm guessing they've put in false memories in his mind, just like they did for us in the false realities."

"But he's not hooked up to a computer."

"I'm not saying I have all the answers." She looked pained. She clearly hadn't taken any time to relax while they were gone either.

"Sorry, but he really thinks he's Steve?"

"Yes, but he's not Steve," Bucky said.

"Obviously, Steve's..."

"No, I mean, the way he spoke to me. The way he looked at me." Bucky didn't know how to explain it. It'd been different, from when he'd seen Steve on that bridge, back when he didn't have his memories. Back when he was just the Winter Soldier, a killer who knew no other name and cared for no one. Steve had been different. "He recognised my face, but when I tried to grab him, he beat me up. Steve wouldn't have done that. He would've tried to figure out what was wrong."

"He would also have known who you were," Carter said. "I mean, who you are _now_ , after everything that went down with Hydra. He wouldn't think you died in the war and be shocked to see you alive."

"So, he got memories of being Steve, but only up until he got frozen? Or maybe until Loki?"

"No, he knows Sam," Carter said, reading off the tablet she was carrying. "I'm reading the transcript from the meeting and the Falcon's been mentioned as his...." She pressed her lips together. "HIs former sidekick."

"I want to see him," Sam said.

"Yeah," Carter said. "I figured as much. I have to warn you, he's still dangerous. They've got him restrained and they've pumped him full of sedatives and he still looks he's going to burst out at any moment."

"I still want to see him."

Bucky stood up, moving to follow Sam, but Sam shook his head.

"It's all right," he said quietly. "I can do this alone."

Bucky didn't want him to do this alone, but he couldn't explain why. He didn't understand his own protectiveness. They both knew this wasn't Steve and there were agents around if the man escaped and tried something and yet... It felt like that man could hurt Sam and Bucky didn't want Sam to get hurt. Not now, not ever.

Still, he had no choice but to nod and watch him walk away.

"He was a mess after you and Rhodes left," Carter said to him once Sam was out of their sight. "He was so worried something would happen to you. It's kind of sweet, actually." She gave him a warm smile. "I want you to know that I am happy for the two of you. I'm glad you've found each other. You both deserve a partner that's..."

"We're not together like that," Bucky interrupted. "We're not partners or boyfriends or in love or _whatever_."

"Oh. I just thought..."

"He and Steve were together."

That made her go quiet.

"He was with Steve and then Steve..."

"Traveled through time to marry my aunt."

"Exactly. And he's still not over it." If there was anything to prove that, it was the fake reality they'd been stuck in. Steve's shield on Sam's wall, even though in real life, the shield wasn't hidden in that safe anymore. Sam carried Steve with him everywhere, and Bucky couldn't even blame him, because he carried Sam with him everywhere. "So we're not together."

"I'm sorry," she said softly.

Bucky's jaw clenched. He didn't like being pitied. He wish he hadn't opened his mouth to begin with. "Don't be. I am very happy with the situation at hand. I mean, I get to sleep with him, no string attached, and you've seen his body, you know..."

Carter put her hand on Bucky's arm. "You deserve something good, Barnes."

"Yeah, we'll..." He deflated, unable to figure out a cutting retort. Maybe had become mellow. "So do you, Carter."

"You can call me Sharon, you know. I feel like we're past that."

"I suppose you can call me James."

"Not Bucky?"

"You can call me Bucky if you can answer me this," he said. "Natasha?"

She waited for a beat. "That's it? That's your question?"

He raised his eyebrows at her.

"Okay." He patted him on the shoulder. "I'm going back to Rambaeu. See you later, James."

*

Sam found him lying on the couch on the third floor, staring up at the ceiling, with literally nothing to do. He wanted to feel productive, he wanted to help out and investigate whatever the hell had happened to them, but he understood nothing about the machine and Sharon had basically disappeared and he kept being distracted by his worries for Sam. Which was why, when he saw him exit the elevator, he sprang to his feet. He almost ran up to embrace him, but stopped himself in the last moment. It was like he told Sharon: this wasn't that kind of relationship.

"You okay?" Sam asked Bucky.

"You asking me that?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry I did't ask you when you first came back, I was just..." He shook his head, putting his hands on Bucky's shoulders. "Please, tell me, are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

"I'm fine." The bruises had all faded by now and Rhodey had only made fun of him for being taken down so easily like twice, so his pride was mostly fine as well. "What about you?"

"It's like you said. He knows me, but he doesn't. It's like he knows how I look like and he knows we used to hang out, but that's it."

"Like it's from a picture?"

"I guess? I don't know. I tried to tell him that it wasn't real, that he's not really Steve, but then he just got angry and they had to pump him full of sedatives again." Sam didn't look mad anymore, just sad. And hurt. This guy had hurt Sam, just like Bucky had feared. "He looks just like..."

"I know."

"I swear, you could...."

"I know. But it's not him."

"I know."

Sam leaned his forehead to Bucky's shoulder, just like he had last night. Bucky hugged him close, wishing he could heal him as easily as he could heal his body.

"The psych team is on it," Sam said, voice muffled against Bucky's shirt. "They're trying to break the brainwashing. I told them I'd ask you if you had some insight."

Bucky didn't, but he figured he should probably try and make himself useful anyway. "I could go."

"Not now," Sam said, wrapping his arms around Bucky as if afraid he'd walk off in that moment. "Tomorrow. We need to sleep and you..." He sniffed Bucky's neck, making his skin tingle. "You need to wash, you're still covered in dirt." Sam took a step back and took a hold of Bucky' hand. "Come on."

Bucky let Sam lead him towards the room they'd used last night and then the small bathroom inside. He slid his hands over Bucky's stomach, making him shiver, and pulled his shirt off. His hands came up to Bucky's shoulders, caressing the skin right above his metal arm. That was the only part of his body that never seemed to heal completely, the scarring just as big and grotesque as it had been when they'd first attached the arm. Usually, it didn't bother him, but right now, under the bathroom's harsh lights, with Sam looking right at it, he felt oddly ashamed and ugly. He didn't want Sam to see him like that.

"I can take a shower on my own," he said gruffly. "You can go."

Sam leaned forward, pressing his lips to the side of Bucky's neck. Then down to his collarbone, over his shoulder, over the scars. Bucky closed his eyes, leaning back against the sink. Sam's hands moved over his back, his fingers digging in next to his spine, as he kissed over Bucky's chest. Then his kisses traveled up again, over his throat, his jaw, up to the corner of his lips. Bucky turned his head, pressing their lips together, pulling him into a kiss. He grabbed Sam by the neck, opening his mouth to let Sam's exploring tongue in, wanting nothing more than to be trapped in this embrace.

Sam broke the kiss. He pulled away, Bucky trying to chase after him, but Sam held back, smiling at him fondly.

"You know, I think Sharon might've been right," he said wistfully, stroking his fingers through Bucky's hair. "You are different. You're... calmer, somehow."

As a response to that, Bucky turned his head and bit at Sam's wrist. "I'll let you know I'm..."

Sam kissed him again and whatever angry retort he had on the tip of his tongue was immediately forgotten. "Come on," Sam whispered against his lips. "Let's get you cleaned up."

Sam played around with the water temperature while Bucky got out of his pants and underwear, and then began tugging at Sam's clothes. Sam laughed, letting Bucky undress him and stepped into the shower with him. Bucky had anticipated that things would get handsy and dirty quickly, but Sam shied away from his attempts to kiss and touch. Instead, he had Bucky turned around so his back was to Sam.

Bucky braced his arms against the tiles, awaiting the feeling of Sam's fingers. They didn't have any lube nearby, but maybe some of these soaps they'd so generously been provided with would help things out. But instead of his ass, Sam's soap-covered fingers slid into his hair.

Bucky just stood there, unsure what to do, as Sam carefully washed him. He wanted to melt to the floor, it felt so good, but at the same time he was afraid to move and ruin the moment. He closed his eyes, feeling himself relax, muscle by muscle, as Sam's fingers lathered soap over his back and his ass and then down his legs. He couldn't help that he got hard, he was only human, but it didn't feel urgent, like he had to take care of it straight away. He just relaxed into the feeling of being taken care of.

Once he was all washed and done, Sam embraced him from behind, kissing his shoulders. Bucky could feel that he was hard too, his cock poking his ass. Still, he didn't try to fuck him, he just held him under the stream of hot water until it started turning cold. Then he pulled away, stepping out and getting them both towels.

"Why did you do that?" Bucky asked quietly when he laid down in bed, still wearing his towel.

"Because I wanted to," Sam said, his head resting on Bucky's chest. "Besides, you were so dirty, you really did look like you needed help."

Bucky shifted to the side, sliding his hand under Sam's towel. "I can be dirty in other ways."

"Are you sure?" Sam asked.

Yes, he was fucking sure. He needed to be sure. Because if this was about sex, if this was about Sam wanting to fuck him in the real world the way he'd fucked him in the fake one, then this was easy. Then this all made sense. But Sam wanting to shower him and then lie down with his head on Bucky's chest, that made no sense. He didn't understand what that meant.

"Come on, fuck me," Bucky growled, and Sam got on top of him immediately, kissing him passionately. And yes, this Bucky got. Sam wanted to fuck. That made sense.

The towels were thrown to the side and Bucky finally had Sam's entire, glorious, naked body on top of him. He could feel every inch of him against his skin. He was so warm, so beautiful, Bucky's hands didn't even know where to start touching him. They kept roaming up and down his back, over his ass, grabbing two handfuls of his asscheeks and pulling his hips down so their cocks slid together. Sam moaned against his lips, moving his own hips, grinding down against Bucky's pelvis.

"Bucky," he panted, resting his forehead against Bucky's. "Bucky, I want..."

"I know, I want it too. Come on."

"We don't have the stuff," Sam said mournfully.

"We could just use..."

"Besides, I don't think my body can take it right now." Sam kissed Bucky again. "Let's just do it like this." He canted his hips, encouraging Bucky to do the same.

It was a bit too dry, so Bucky licked over his palm and moved his hand between them, grabbing both of their cocks and stroking them best he could from this angle. Sam moaned appreciatively, kissing Bucky's cheek. They could probably do this better if they changed positions, but Sam seemed unwilling to get off Bucky's body, and Bucky enjoyed the feeling of Sam lying on top of him, blanketing him with his weight.

Bucky moved to lick his palm again, but this time Sam stopped him, taking his fingers into his own mouth and sucking on them. Bucky shuddered, remembering the feeling of Sam's lips wrapped around his cock. Sam's tongue moved over his palm, down over his pulse. Bucky's other hand, the metal one, squeezed Sam's asscheek harder, making his hips move faster.

Sam cursed, his mouth leaving Bucky's hand. "That's metal," he seemed to realise.

Bucky immediately let go. "Sorry."

"No, no." Sam's hips kept moving, his kisses sloppy as his lips moved over Bucky's neck. "Keep going. Keep touching me."

Bucky obliged, moving the fingers Sam had been sucking on between them to grab their cocks again, while his metal hand squeezed Sam's ass. Sam scraped his teeth over Bucky's neck, his breathing speeding up, his muscles tightening.

Curious, Bucky moved his metal fingers further down, until he was pressing up right against Sam's hole. He didn't try to press inside, he was too dry for that, but he kept the pressure on there just to see what would happen. 

What happened, it turned out, was that Sam's body began to shake and convulse as he came. His orgasm was quiet, his lips opening wordlessly against Bucky's pulse, but Bucky could feel it in his entire body. Of all the times he'd seen or felt Sam orgasm, both in the fake and the real world, it had never felt like this. The orgasm traveled all the way from there their legs were interlocked up to where Bucky was kissing his temple. Bucky never wanted to stop feeling feelings Sam's body, his heat, his pleasure, shaking through him into Bucky.

Once it was all over, Sam collapsed on top of him, no longer even trying to keep himself from crushing Bucky. It was fine, Bucky could take his weight. He wiped Sam's cum off his hand on the sheets, and then wrapped his arms around Sam, hugging him tightly.

Sam shifted, and then let out a surprised noise. "You're still hard."

"That's fine, I don't have to..."

But Sam had already broken out of his embrace and rolled off of him, settling by his side. Bucky wanted to protest the loss, wanted to let Sam know that it was okay if he didn't get to come tonight if he got to keep holding him, but then Sam wrapped his fingers around Bucky's cock and all words died. It didn't take long for him to finish, already so close to the edge.

Sam cleaned him off quietly, just like he'd done in the shower, and then settled down with his head on Bucky's chest again.

I'm so glad you're here with me," he whispered against Bucky's skin. "I don't know what I'd do if you weren't."

"Me too," Bucky admitted to the darkness. He really had no idea what he'd do, if he didn't have Sam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was a storyline in the comic books where they had a man go through plastic surgery and then dress up as and act like Captain America while Steve was (temporarily) dead in the comics. So this is loosely inspired on that storyline.
> 
> Also (potential spoilers) seems like they're doing a storyline similar to the comic book one with a fake-Cap in the new TV series? I guess we'll have to wait and see.


End file.
